When the Jailbirds Sing
by Sulfur Dusk
Summary: — SEQUEL UP — After witnessing the death of her brother, Rukia is sentenced to Rukongai Asylum by her adopted sister. There she encounters a white-haired sociopath said to be damaged beyond repair. "No one has lived long in my presence. You are no exception." COMPLETE.
1. Chapter One: The Asylum

**Title: **_When the Jailbirds Sing_

**Rating: **_M_

**Genre: **_Horror/Suspense/Angst/Action/Drama/Romance_

**Pairing: **_Toushiro Hitsugaya x Rukia Kuchiki_

**Setting: **_Alternate Universe_

**Disclaimer: **_Disclaimed_

**Summary: **_After the death of her beloved older brother Byakuya and the destruction of her home, Rukia Kuchiki is sent to an asylum by her paranoid sister-in-law, Hisana Kuchiki. While living in the asylum as someone who thinks she does not belong, Rukia encounters the grave tales of a dangerous inmate known to kill first and talk later. This white-haired sociopath is said to be damaged beyond any source of care that the asylum can give him. As soon as they make eye contact, a dangerous game of obsession and horror is woven. "No one has lived long in my presence. And you, Kuchiki, will be no different than anyone else." Because when the jailbirds sing, the one and only gets what he wants._

* * *

><p><em>Her fingernails scraped desperately against the cement pavement, where she could see the torrents of blood splashing along the wind chimes and gray wood of the balcony. The once magnificently white stone pillars were drenched with ash, spirals of murderous flames swallowing the beautiful place in one massive gulp. With each passing second, the fire increased, stomping everything beneath its mighty foot and leaving not a single trace of innocence behind. The decorative plants stored in the glorious lobby were shriveled into nothingness, echoing screams of horror emitting from within the infamous household.<em>

_Dark violet eyes scanned blankly over the collapsing building, the indigo tiles of the once-stable roof utterly crumbling into swishing clouds of ash. Her breath itched terribly as she struggled to breathe, to remember the details of any significant encounter within this building. She did not remember escaping, and did not remember the way her loved ones looked her in the eye, and told her to leave. _

_To save herself. _

_Her pale fingers digging into the soot-covered earth, she felt the grass flexing against her cracked palms and her eyes watering from the intensity of the smoke. The streams of water shooting in several directions from the surrounding blurs of white, yellow and red causing panic to static within her. Her skin lifted in goose bumps despite her not feeling any single one of them. She struggled to make sense of her surroundings, to focus as she felt the cold arms of a stranger cradle her body. _

_Her vision began to dissipate. The fallen house, now a massive bonfire emitting smoke, sweat and the former blood and tears of her loved ones sending shocks of emotion within her. Her state of pain, as she knew she was broken outside as well as inside, was swallowing her as quickly as the flames had to her own home. _

_Consciousness fading, the violet-eyed woman did not resist as she was placed onto a comfortable, steady material. The towers of smoke spiraling from the fires began to paint the skies in a dark cloak, tarnishing the formerly beautiful presentation of periwinkles and purple shades. _

_She could no longer feel the pain within her body. All that dwelled within her rapidly deteriorating mind was the fact that her entire home was gone, the images of her brother falling into swirling pits of hellfire. The thought continued to pound through her mind, forcing her to replay it like a broken record. _

_The blurs continued in a trembling line; many images of cloaked people rushing to her aid, forcing her away from the destroyed house and the dissolved embers caking the surrounding gardens. Absolute emotional pain surged through her heart, grasping it icily and clenching it until it would bleed. _

_She failed to notice the panicked looks upon the others. They struggled to keep her alive, to keep her focused with the inner determination of her own world. Closing her eyes, she tried to blink once and then twice in order to be rid of such images. She did not want to see these people. She only wanted to be asleep, to rest and wish this entire event away as if it was only a nightmare. _

_Purple eyes, as graceful and delicate as hers, peered over her body, needing and careful. They were such caring eyes, longing for her to remain present in the world, to remain focused and loyal to the outcome. The woman knew these eyes; memorized them; perfected them within her own mindset. _

_She was not dead. _

_A surge of bitterness awoke within the fallen girl. Anger was a useless emotion within these times, yet she could no longer feel pity for the death of her brother, or the sabotage of the butlers and mistresses that catered to their every need and only she paid attention to their wants and wishes. _

_Her godforsaken sister was still alive…_

_Now, more than ever, she wanted to sleep. _

_And forget that this ever happened._

* * *

><p><em>Six months.<em>

Six months since the incident.

Rukia lifted her gaze toward the mahogany desk, where several stacks of pale blue portfolios sat in a tidied line. She had remembered the events again, when her house was destroyed with only one mistake at hand.

Her fingers curling into her palms, she closed her eyes. Tried to force the images away, as if they were haunting her every thought. She still remembered the screaming of her brother as he told her to save herself, to flee the hungry flames as they devoured every inch of her home.

Releasing a breathy sigh, Rukia kept her posture straight and her lips taught. She was not going to speak up when she was in her sister's presence. The adopted member of the Kuchiki name, Hisana was incredibly distant from the likes of her sibling. They were never close.

The death of her dearest blood brother was enough to rattle such memories. It was a terrible wish, yet Rukia had not wanted to see the lively eyes of her adopted sister after the flames consumed her home.

Hisana was dreadfully and sickeningly perfect. She was tall, lithe and thin, with unbelievably pearly skin and emotional purple eyes. They were lighter and less purging than Rukia's, though they held enough beauty to distract a wandering, curious man or a jealous woman. Her lashes were long and her hair reached past her shoulders in sweeping, curly locks that rivaled the short cut of her sister's own.

What bothered Rukia most about Hisana was her lack of present emotion.

She never truly appeared solemn. Never sad. Never… _guilty_, not even after the horrific demise of her brother and the once impressive Kuchiki manor. Somehow Hisana had escaped. With the large holes in Rukia's memory she was not able to pinpoint the direct happening, or what had occurred on that very night. It was reported as a dreadful accident with the heater in the basement of the manor.

Yet Rukia was raised to not believe such tall tales.

Frowning as Hisana entered the room in a lavish outfit of white, Rukia flicked her eyes toward the stack of folders. "What are those?" She blinked. "Are they the reason you told me to come downstairs?"

Hisana sighed, a light smile adorning her impossibly angelic face. Rukia wrinkled her nose; crossing her arms in a stubborn fashion once her sister-in-law pulled back her chair and gradually sat behind the desk. Pulling the folders together, she assembled them in a neat pile where she began opening them in curiosity.

"Yes, they are part of the reason that I called you down here." Hisana closed her eyes, closing one of the folders and glancing up to meet Rukia in the eye. "I think you need help, Rukia."

The blunt statement caught the black-haired teenager off-guard. She frowned and narrowed her abnormally large eyes toward her sister. "Help with what?"

"You know what." Hisana held an almost pitying tone in her silky voice. "The incident six months ago. With Byakuya." Rukia wanted so desperately to yell at the woman and tell her that her brother was not deserving of such a fate, but with great dignity, she kept her mouth shut and only listened for the time being. Hisana then continued, more punctual. "I've been receiving some interesting calls from the hospitals here in Karakura." Rukia's eyes widened. "I think that, maybe, it would be best if I accepted one of their conditions—"

"It wasn't just an _incident_." Rukia looked at Hisana in shock. "It was the death of _my brother _and _your fiancée_. And if we're going to talk about this, you may as well call my therapist and tell her that I need more sessions. More than just four hours a week. Obviously I need more attention than that."

Hisana glared. "I know that Byakuya died." She kept her voice low and smooth. "But was I able to control it? No, I wasn't. And at this point I know that it would be good for you to go to one of these hospitals." She held up her finger before Rukia could retort. "_However_, it has to be more severe than that."

Rukia frowned, pushing herself from the couch. "I'm not going."

"Rukia, these files are letters that were sent to me _after _the incident. Only two weeks after the fire happened, doctors from all over started calling us, as they knew who we were. I denied treatment for too long. And I think that the way you're talking to me just shows how aggressive you've become."

Rukia's eyes widened. "Aggressive? You think I'm _aggressive _with you?" She wanted to laugh, no, _bawl _in hilarity at this statement. How dare she? She was talking as if she was a true Kuchiki, a true wearer of the infamous name. "I'm not being aggressive, Hisana. I'm telling you that the moment the fire happened, you've been too monotone and calm about it."

The other woman shot from her seat, anger evident in her formerly calm purple eyes. "You will not talk to me like this, Rukia! The moment your brother, my _husband _died, I've been doing what's best for you and nothing more!"

Rukia shook her head. "No, you haven't. You've only been doing what's best for yourself." She waited until her words would make a dent in Hisana's thick skull. She knew very well what she was asking for.

Hisana's fists clenched, the blue folder in her hands creasing under the pressure. "That settles it. I'm sending you away." The coldness in her voice was startling to Rukia.

The black-haired girl growled and screeched. "You can't send me away! You wouldn't be doing any of us any justice! You have to have permission from _all _of the therapists that you've sent me to, anyway—"

A thick smacking sound echoed through the corridor. Rukia grasped her tender cheek, a red mark staining her alabaster skin. She glanced up at her former sister-in-law in utter shock. Hisana _never _hit her. In this part of Karakura with noble business families, the Kuchikis especially, hitting was always allowed. Though Byakuya had never dared to touch his precious sister. Rukia never saw herself as a spoiled brat and, while she was anxious and hyperactive as a young girl, she never deliberately disobeyed Byakuya as she respected him too much.

Hisana's chest was heaving, her eyes narrowed and, for once, Rukia could see the pure ugliness of hatred and despair within the statue of a woman. "I want no more lip from you, Rukia… I am doing this for all of us. You, Byakuya, and I. He would have wanted you to be sent away. And I'm going to make sure you get the proper treatment from a _real _hospital." The venom in her voice made Rukia want to scream, kick, and throw a childish tantrum that she never performed as a child for the sake of her sibling.

Yet she wanted Hisana to suffer so endlessly for her own selfish desires. For once, she wanted to be selfish and obtain the responsibility of a true Kuchiki woman. She was trained to be like one, but at this moment her stature as a blood relative to Byakuya seemed useless.

Hisana closed her eyes, glancing toward her folders once more. Shuffling several of the papers to one side, her smaller eyes scanned over the white registration forums. Her tongue swept over her lips as she pulled a folded note from underneath the portfolios.

Rukia frowned, ignoring her throbbing cheek and standing up. She brushed down her attire, avoiding eye contact with Hisana as well as she could. "Have you finally decided where you're going to _send me away_?" She wanted to be just as venomous and hostile.

Though Hisana still held the same frosty edge to her delicate voice. "Rukongai Asylum, in the Eastern District."

Immediately, Rukia's blood ran cold.

* * *

><p>The Eastern District of Rukongai was incredibly black-hearted and cruel. It held a hideous reputation with the higher-ranked families, including nobles and less important citizens alike. Within the Eastern District illicit crimes were displayed on an almost daily basis, more so than any other district of Japan that would have been familiar to Rukia. There were rumors that surrounded the abandoned buildings along the streets of Rukongai, though she was never taught to adjust to such things as rumors.<p>

She had struggled with the idea of being sent to Rukongai Asylum. She did not even know there was a mental hospital in the Eastern District, with how corrupted the system was. She knew that Hisana was only trying to take revenge of her speaking to her as punishment. She wanted her to suffer.

_Bitch. _Rukia rolled her eyes. _I'm not going to give her the satisfaction. I'll send her letters. And I'm sure they'll make her cry. _Hisana appeared all too fragile; behind the doll-like mask and her fake tears she was but a weakling to Rukia. With the Kuchiki sense of determination in her blood, she knew that she had the opportunity to be as strong as her brother.

Once Byakuya's name crossed her mind, her emotions began to dissolve. There were truthful aspects to Hisana's paranoid ranting. She knew very well that she could be mentally scarred and possibly damaged after the events. Though nothing had grown more and more than her absolute hatred for the wench that was Hisana.

She failed to even notice what her brother saw appealing in the woman. The coincidence that they looked so much alike was just another thing that bothered her. Hisana was taller, far more beautiful, had lovely hair, lovely eyes, an _incredible _smile, perfect skin, lips, eyelashes, clothes, voice…

Yet her soul was as priceless as fool's gold.

Rukia blinked once the sleek black car driven by Hisana's chauffer came to an abrupt stop. Glancing through the glass windows of her side of the vehicle, she examined the building that she presumed to be the asylum from top to bottom.

It was a tall, surprisingly polished white building with darker government-oriented symbols engraved onto the roof. It was a particularly small place, much smaller and daintier than the Kuchiki girl had imagined. Graffiti decorated the walls with curse words, idiotic phrases and other garble that Rukia did not bother to pay attention to for more than thirty seconds. Thick, bold letters with lightly cracked surfaces decorated the spot above the round oak doors: _Rukongai East District Mental Hospital_.

Rukia could feel her heart pounding against her chest. Looking over to the black briefcase beside her, she reluctantly stepped out of the car without the assistance of the chauffer.

Even the atmosphere had grown unnecessarily cold. A light dusty wind blew over the sidewalk, sending light trails of bumps along her legs and exposed arms. More than anything, she did _not _want to enter through this slightly decrepit building. Something about it seemed terribly morbid. Dangerous.

As if asking personally for her to turn around, and walk back to where she came from.

"Do you need assistance with your bags, Mistress?" The chauffer asked politely, tipping his hat.

Rukia blinked and shook her head, sending a grateful smile toward the man. She was at least kind to the servants that served the Kuchiki line for too many years to count. "No, thank you, Hyde. I'm alright. Thank you, though, and good luck back at the manor." She would only hope that Hisana would treat Hyde and the other newly hired servants kindly.

Holding her breath, she slowly walked to the entrance of the building, and pushed the doors open to allow her entry.

* * *

><p>The smell of rotting socks and inedible food sank through the grounds of the cafeteria with ease. Each inmate sat on separate respective tables, each bench drenched in stains from previous years, with gum detected underneath almost every seat, and the stench of armpit and body odor present thickly within the room.<p>

A tall man with a striking head of orange hair sat grumpily on one of the benches, glaring toward his silver tray with little interest. Plopped onto his single white plate was a gel-like substance that reminded him of the old shampoo that the other inmates used in their public showers. Grimacing, he shoveled pieces of stale bread into his mouth, refusing to scoop the odd food onto the crust.

"Hey, Kurosaki, you may as well eat that. The security guards'll make us eat it all. They always do." A man sitting across from the carrot-top was as odd-looking as anyone else in Rukongai. His wild red hair was tied back in a tight ponytail, the remnants springing out of place like an angry pompom. His tattoos made him appear all the stranger, the scowls on both of their faces showing pure resentment and annoyance in the large room.

The orange-haired man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "The same thing happens every day, Renji. After every fucking training session in the weight room, we run laps, and then we eat piles of shit here. What the hell is that going to do for us? We don't even have good food and everything is a bore."

"Grumpy today, eh, Ichigo?" Renji snorted, rolling his eyes. "I say quit complaining. Something will happen soon enough. At least we get TV. I would die if we didn't have TV… plus we know where to go in this place, and where _not _to go." His tone turned slightly grim as he recalled his words, furrowing his brow. "At least… _he's _not here today. I think he's in his cellar."

Ichigo's dark brown eyes widened. "Really. I don't see what the big deal is."

"I've been here longer than you. And I know how this place is run. I know every detail that has been happening in this place…" Renji shook his head. "Trust me, man, you don't want to talk about it. Usually he comes here with a ton of security guards trailing after him, but… well, you know."

Ichigo turned his attention toward the other half of the room, separated by a thick line of guards that led to a much smaller population of female inmates. As all of the lunch tables on the other side were cluttered with men, the other side held less than a dozen women that were enlisted in the rugged place. The man slightly grinned, turning toward his friend with a risen eyebrow.

"Why do they separate us? The guys and the girls?"

Renji rolled his eyes. "You're kidding, right? It's obvious. Girls in an asylum, with a bunch of hormonal dudes that probably haven't had any action in forever. The weird ones here are thinking that if the line even separates a _little bit_… they at least want to see one girl. That's enough for them. It's weird but that's my theory."

"There are only, like, eight girls over there." Ichigo cocked an eyebrow. "I find that strange—"

The muffling of the intercoms attached to the walls around them drew the two men's attention. Ichigo peered over Renji's shoulder to see a small group of armored soldiers, huddling around a flailing, lithe little figure that seemed like an angry black-haired wasp.

Renji blinked. "Who the hell is that?" He pointed to the group of soldiers, hearing the annoyed grunts coming from their beefy frames. "I think they're having some trouble over there…"

"_Don't touch me you bastard! I can find my own way around!"_

A chuckle of amusement spread through the large group of males eating contently in the cafeteria halls. Ichigo scowled slightly as he noticed the soldiers struggling to keep a tiny, _tiny _girl in one place. She was a small thing, very thin with a flat chest and nimble arms and legs. However, she seemed unusually strong for such a size. Her face was pale and, from even a long distance, he could see large violet eyes framing her unusually shaped face.

Renji smirked. "It's another girl. Oh well. I think she'll just be a pain for a while and then everyone's going to forget about her…"

Ichigo frowned, rubbing his temples. "Whatever."

* * *

><p>Rage seeped through Rukia's brain as she kicked and slapped at the armored guards patrolling her through the asylum halls. She was more than capable of finding her own cell and placing her own belongings in the numbered room.<p>

Rolling her eyes, she gave up conflict after several minutes. She knew they were going to only continue to flock her whenever she tried to escape the small circle. After consulting with the woman at the front desk, she was handed a small white ticket the size of her thumb. Tiny black letters barely formed legible words as they were imprinted on the slip of fortune cookie paper.

_**Kuchiki Rukia, Resident No. 356890**_

_**Cell No. 426**_

_**Roommate No. (Not Credited)**_

_**Security Standards: Very Low**_

Rukia slightly twitched as she scanned over the last imprint. _Security _standards? Her reasons for being sent to this godforsaken place was only reasoning from her paranoid sister-in-law who most certainly only wanted to get rid of her. Pushing her angry thoughts aside, the young Kuchiki waited until the assembly of guards stepped aside in time for her to see the barred door to her cell.

She frowned at the prison-like atmosphere to the place. The East District was known for its criminal accomplices, though formatting a mental hospital like this was increasingly odd to Rukia. She had never seen a place so… damaged, as if the security itself seemed reluctant to follow the rules.

"Get in." The solid voice of one of the guards snapped Rukia out of her anger. She glared toward him, gripping the handle of her briefcase and walking inside.

The room was quite small, with a simple bed on one side with a thin white sheet as the only source of covering through the cold nights. A desk sat in the opposite corner beneath the barred windows, while a reasonably sized wardrobe sat steadily against the right wall. A small bathroom attached to the cell was probably like one that would be installed into an airplane; tight, cramped, and outrageously uncomfortable.

Rolling her eyes, she sighed. _This isn't exactly special treatment, but… it's oddly prison-like. _Everything seemed the same to her in the terms of arrangement. Craning her neck, she observed the overall color of the room: a pure vibrant white. It seemed untouched with scratches or anything related to the sort. Every corner of this room was not tarnished in any way and was completely flawless.

Rukia turned toward the last remaining guard, raising an eyebrow. "Don't you have a schedule for me, or something?"

The guard sighed, shaking his helmeted head. "There is nothing that the guards can give to the inmates. This room has not been touched, cleaned, or inhabited for a long time. Be glad that you received such a sterile climate." Before Rukia could question him further, he only snickered and stomped away to follow the other recruits.

The black-haired woman sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. She was most likely going to be here for only a few weeks… a few days, even, if she was lucky. Her sister-in-law's paranoia and insulted demeanor was the main cause of this incident, and she knew it quite well.

Yet, admittedly, a small part of her desperately still rested with the flames that swallowed her home… and her brother's life.

Rukia looked to her left, where a feminine uniform of a dark slate color sat folded neatly on the covers of her bed. She gradually placed herself beside the fabric, examining the appearance and detail.

It looked like it belonged to the asylum, and was the smallest size available for the women there. She noticed traces of dust along the muted fabric, though she did not care. Her cell number was monogrammed onto the left side, and was designed to fit very loosely over her frame. She knew that walking around in this outfit was going to make her look like she was wearing one of her parent's clothes.

A soft smile took over her lips. She would easily anger the guards if she happened to trip them with an oversized pant leg…

Grinning, she sighed and folded her hands together.

The door opened, and she bolted up in alarm.

"Put your outfit on," a guard murmured. "You should be with the rest of the Women's Division in the cafeteria in two minutes. Don't be late, or the security will get higher around your cell."

Rukia's brow furrowed. Was that a _warning_? She glared once more as the man disappeared after closing the door.

* * *

><p>Ichigo frowned, glancing around him toward the statue-like guards surrounding the tables with intense interest. "I can't believe this. The security sucks here… you'd think that they would all be paying attention to the worse loonies. You know, in those other cells."<p>

Renji snorted. "It's like I said before, Kurosaki. _He's _not here, so people should at least be a little more relaxed than usual." He shook his head. "You're telling me that you've never seen him in that secluded corner over there? Where the best guards stand to watch him? They're armed with guns all the time and everything. They don't like to keep him in his cell because they think that it will only make him more bonkers… that's one messed-up asshole, man. I heard he's been transferred from all over. He probably killed a ton of cellmates…" His throat slightly tightened at the thought. "Damnit… I think I just jinxed myself. Great, now I have to sleep with one eye open—"

"Quiet, Abarai!" Ichigo hissed, gesturing over to two guards that promptly led the small woman into the area again. The orange-haired inmate shrugged. "It's the same girl. She looks like a twelve-year-old."

"Hmph. She won't survive a day in here…" Renji cocked an eyebrow. "Who is she, anyway? She doesn't look like she could hurt a fly."

Ichigo blinked once the girl, dressed in slightly oversized asylum garments, tried to bite one of the guards that constrained her. "She looks like she has guts."

"Whatever. I don't care… can't we go back to our cells, now?" He rolled his eyes. "Seriously."

"Be thankful, asshole. We have five minutes left."

A small murmur erupted from the other side, where the women were giving each other wary glances in response to the situation. Ichigo noticed this, a huff escaping his throat. He turned to Renji. "There's definitely gossip going around. You'd think that girls would be more… I dunno, sympathetic or something."

"Not in the loony bin, Kurosaki."

* * *

><p>"Who the hell is that girl?" A woman with cherry-colored hair sneered and gestured to the roughhousing Kuchiki as she stubbornly avoided the guards. "She's causing a whole ruckus here. I think it's stupid." She rolled her eyes and continued staring down at her food, scooping dated vanilla pudding into her mouth and pushing up her glasses.<p>

"Don't be so mean, Chizuru…" The dainty voice of the girl next to her belonged to a tall, curvaceous woman with unusual beauty. Her face held far too much innocence, as it seemed far too easy to damage. Her full lips were almost always pulled into a small smile, and her long straight orange hair was delicate and smooth, despite the rough conditions of Rukongai Asylum. Her soft eyes, with a particularly weak set of emotions glistening through them like shallow emeralds, she was depicted as the common set of beauty amongst nobility, yet a rare gem within Rukongai.

Chizuru huffed and scoffed. "I don't believe you, Orihime! After you started talking with _Kurosaki _and his pompom-headed friend, you've been saying some strange things." She crossed her arms under her chest, glaring toward the wall. "I think it's silly how much attention you're paying to this."

Orihime frowned, a look of confusion showing in her bright eyes. "But, Chizuru… you were the one who brought it up in the first place." She blinked and smiled once the strange black-haired girl was forced to sit down amongst them. Orihime kept her distance, glancing down the long white table, where the stranger sat with crossed arms and an empty silver tray.

The orange-haired girl was always the fond center of attention. She liked being under the radar of the other women and under the impression of interest with the male inmates, as she knew they watched her wherever she was, whether it was the cafeteria, her entry to the shower rooms, or the strange areas where it was designed like an entertainment facility for the inmates. She liked being the center of it all, but she appreciated the attention she gave to others more.

Scooting away from Chizuru, she glanced toward the girl with a look of kindness over her features. "Hello. It's nice to meet you. My name is Orihime Inoue." The introduction was simple and pleasant. Her lighthearted voice was either charming or dreadful to most people.

The black-haired girl blinked, glancing up from her lap and gazing toward the woman blankly. Orihime cracked a tiny smile at this. "I'm sorry, you seem very quiet… but between us and the other inmates, we are far better company." She shrugged her thin shoulders. "I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable."

The dark-haired girl smiled very softly, yet Orihime could see the pure impishness in her pretty purple eyes. "… Rukia. Kuchiki Rukia." She shook her head. "I shouldn't be here, but I guess it's fine to see a nice face." She rolled her eyes. The action reminded Orihime of an exasperated cat. "But, I have several questions for you, Orihime."

Orihime blinked, but then smiled. "Okay. I'll be happy to answer anything—"

A dead ring of silence fell amongst the inmates. Not a single word entered Rukia's eyes, as she glanced around in pure confusion at her surroundings. Everyone had stopped moving, and stopped interacting altogether. Soldiers with darker armor than the others had trekked into the area. Rukia glanced over toward Orihime, who's eyes were wide and filled with terror.

The ring of new guards stomped toward a small, secluded table on the far side of the cafeteria, on a sharp distance from any physical contact with anyone else. Rukia's brow furrowed as she examined this, ignoring the shocked faces of everyone around her. They all seemed to be looking away from the scene, their gazes fixed on something else and their minds set on entirely different subjects of conversation, wanting to distract themselves.

Once the soldiers parted, Rukia's breath caught in her throat, a string of goose bumps scaling her flesh like an upset train.

There sat a man, his white asylum uniform torn in several places. His wrists were bound behind him, tightly constricted around the silver chair that supported his weight. He appeared roguish and simply dangerous, his tan skin contrasting with the sharp spikes of white hair that framed a slightly childish face. He was covered in old and new stains of red substance, cuts along his face, wrists and the revealed portions of his arms that were not torn parts of his sleeves. A low, predatory growl emitted from his throat. Rukia could see that this strange man was small in height, though the intense _cold _radiating from him inch by inch set the whole world still.

The guards were now turned away from the male inmates, watching each and every movement of the white-haired boy with their weapons poised. How dangerous was this man?

Rukia blinked once the cafeteria slowly rose into motion once more. Conversation bubbled around her, and the girl named Orihime was now talking with her pink-haired companion. The atmosphere had changed, though when Rukia turned to examine the inmate once more, she wish she hadn't.

Eyes as narrowed and frozen as the tundra stared, no, _seared _into hers. They were wide, filled with practical insanity and lack of morals. They were flooding with abominable curiosity, and other emotions that Rukia could not decipher from her somewhat short distance from him.

Though he would not avoid her eyes. She could hear a growl rumbling in his throat, as if he was warning her to look away. She refused to.

The soldier rammed the butt of his gun to the man's neck, forcing him to look toward his tray of food. The guard in front of him began to force-feed the inmate, shoveling morsels of stale sustenance into the man's mouth.

Rukia blinked, snapping out of her trance. Her entire body remained still, as if caught beneath the gaze of a cobra. She turned toward Orihime, who was now as pale as a ghost.

"Orihime…" She blinked once more, collecting her posture. "Who is that man?"

The orange-haired girl released a small, shaky whimper. "T-That is Toushiro Hitsugaya…" She shook her head, as if punishing herself for even mentioning his name. "He… he never comes out. Never. They won't keep him in his cell. They never do that. When he does come out guards cover him like he's holding a bomb. He's so dangerous. He's reckless, he's angry, h-he's… evil. He's _evil_. A sociopath… h-he murdered his own girlfriend, the man his girlfriend cheated on him with, a-and a lot of other people… h-he's a madman, Rukia. A madman."

The Kuchiki's brow furrowed. "Isn't everyone else here a madman?"

"No, no, no, no…" Orihime blinked and gaped at Rukia. "H-He's insane… no one dares to make eye contact with him. T-They say that if you do, he'll freeze you with his eyes. I-It will kill you while you live here…" She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. "H-He's so evil. Evil, evil, evil…"

Rukia could see paranoia flash through Orihime's eyes. Begrudgingly, she reminded her of Hisana.

"Why is everyone so afraid of him?"

"B-Because when he escapes… which hasn't happened in months… he kills. K-Kills a lot of people. Women. Men. All of them. A-And no one can stop him when he does." Orihime shook her head, whimpering. "H-He's dangerous, Rukia! I-I can't say anymore."

The Kuchiki sighed at this, though the story left fear within her heart. She knew that it would be impossible for an inmate to have escaped and murdered other inmates without being penalized with death. To her nothing about the orange-haired girl's story seemed logical.

Though when she turned to see the white-haired boy again, he was still there…

Boring his eyes into hers, his eyes dancing with teal flames identical to the ones that took her brother's life away.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Please review, guys! I worked really hard on this and I am actually working on the second chapter as we speak… I have enormous inspiration right now and I find this idea and chapter <strong>_**far more interesting **_**and **_**better altogether **_**than the previous **_**Jailbirds. **_**Plus the title is different! :) It's going to be way more intense and way more detailed, and so far I'm enjoying this. And yes, I made Hisana a bit of a terrible person, but… sorry. It's kind of essential to the story.**

**And if you haven't guessed it already... YES, THIS IS A COMPLETELY REDONE STORY OF THE TERRIBLE SCRAP THAT WAS _JAILBIRDS_! Straitjackets galore in this newly improved, remodeled and rewritten idea for the new _Jailbirds... _**

_**Please. Please. PLEASE review **_**and tell me what you think! I'll reply to every single one as much as I can. :)**

**Thank you for reading!**


	2. Chapter Two: The Monster

**Title: **_When the Jailbirds Sing_

**Rating: **_M_

**Genre: **_Horror/Suspense/Action/Drama/Romance_

**Pairing: **_Toushiro Hitsugaya x Rukia Kuchiki_

**Setting: **_Alternate Universe_

**Disclaimer: **_Disclaimed_

**Summary: **_After the death of her beloved older brother Byakuya and the destruction of her home, Rukia Kuchiki is sent to an asylum by her paranoid sister-in-law, Hisana Kuchiki. While living in the asylum as someone who thinks she does not belong, Rukia encounters the grave tales of a dangerous inmate known to kill first and talk later. This white-haired sociopath is said to be damaged beyond any source of care that the asylum can give him. As soon as they make eye contact, a dangerous game of obsession and horror is woven. "No one has lived long in my presence. And you, Kuchiki, will be no different than anyone else." Because when the jailbirds sing, the one and only gets what he wants._

* * *

><p>"Oi, Kurosaki, that's my hair!" An exasperated snort and rolling of eyes had driven Renji to smack his roommate over the head with his pillow. The Men's Division was separated from the Women's, and far larger, with multiple cells matching each and every security option that was required on their form slips during entry. Some roommates were typical rivals, and strangling was quite common with the more unstable characters in the area.<p>

Ichigo snorted. "You're such a baby, Abarai." He crossed his arms behind his head, staring toward the pastel gray ceiling above them. The atmosphere was quite dim in his cell; the walls were as white as every other room, the floor was covered in a navy-blue rug suited to his liking, a wardrobe was on the opposite corner of the room holding both of their clothes, two separate beds, and one bathroom. The nearly claustrophobic space was tightly knit around the two men as they desperately tried to drift into slumber.

The red-haired man scowled, his brow furrowing as he observed the wrinkles over his friend's blanket and the misshapen sheets. "Couldn't sleep?" He cocked an eyebrow in slight suspicion. "Usually I'm the restless one."

Ichigo sighed, rubbing his temples. He was extremely tired. The hours were long and the training sessions in the physical education room were ravenously difficult and extracted every bit of energy from his body. Both he and Renji were qualifiers in the strength department, though they would constantly fall behind from much taller and more fit individuals that had better understanding of the racetrack.

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep… still thinking about today. At lunch hour." His lips pursed into a tight line, scratching his scalp. "Think about it. It took forever for those guards to bring him out, y'know? _He _never comes out unless they want to scare the living shit out of us." He pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing a deep sigh of annoyance as he recalled the earlier part of his day.

He remembered the continuous roughhousing around the white, stained tables that held their silver trays and inedible food, and the rumbling of the much less constricted cellmates. He recalled listening to the giggling of several of the Women's Division inmates on the other side of the room, protected by a firm string of soldiers that never left their position, frozen like a dozen uniformed statues.

Though his eyes widened, a small smirk pulling at his lips as he remembered the squirming, fidgeting black-haired midget that would not stop fighting her opposing escort. He had attempted to cuff her numerous times, trying to restrain the little spitfire that the other women seemed to immediately shoot down in disdain and lack of morality. She seemed like a rare person to visit the asylum, and to actually become a _part _of it was the shocking thing.

Nothing about her seemed out of the ordinary to him. She was aggressive, spunky and a possible smartass. But that had nothing to do with her sanity level. She could have been as normal as any other pedestrian _away _from the Eastern District of Rukongai.

Renji frowned. "Hey, man, what's bothering you?"

"Just remembering some things." Ichigo shrugged in an absentminded manner, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck to ease the stress in his upper body. He was beginning to tense up just by thinking of strange happenings earlier in the day. He needed to control his mediocre needs, as to not fall into bigger situations that he would later not be able to fix. Only he and Renji knew of this odd trait he possessed, and the asylum inmates knew very well that he had a strange obsessive-compulsive complex.

The tattooed man snorted. "Whatever… is it about the black-haired bitch?" He chuckled slightly. "She won't survive here, I'm telling you. She practically froze when she sat down with the girls in the lunchroom. It was hard to see past the guards, but… you know what I mean, Ichigo. They're always flanking the chicks and they never let us see anything. I think that bug-eyed chick is going to get her ass kicked soon. No matter how spunky she is."

Ichigo snickered slightly. This was when he disagreed with Renji; he never seemed to see past the box. It was an interesting trait that not many masculine people owned; he felt that he was unique in a sense of observing the smaller things that other people would pass off as a useless objective. "Spunk… and will, determination, and strength is what gets you through this place. Otherwise I would be dead. Think about the huge bastards that live here, Renji. If I wasn't here they would have torn you to shreds."

Renji blinked and growled. "Whatever. I could have taken 'em."

"You wish you could." Ichigo glared at the other man. The roommates scowled in unison, returning each other's glares with very little resistance. "You're a pansy sometimes. You won't do things just because it'll mess up your hair and shit…"

"When did I ever say that?" Renji snarled. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about things that happened in this room! We're always arguing over the same useless crap! You know, stuff like this, right _now_. I'm saying that you're an idiot and you're disagreeing with me, which makes you _more _of an idiot." His ramblings did not make any sense.

Renji blinked owlishly. "Dude, what was that supposed to be about?"

"… I'm not… sure…" Ichigo scowled once more before turning toward the barred glass windows high above them, letting thin rays of moonshine to glaze over their dark blue rug. "Our goal in this hellhole is just to get through a couple years without any scars…" He smirked somewhat. "Tattoos don't count."

"Like shit they don't!"

* * *

><p>Interlacing her fingers into a woven collection of nimble threads, the orange-haired woman kept her pacing perfectly steady. She memorized the very coordinates of weaving and knitting several objects together to create several interesting creations. She never liked the idea of being excluded from certain things, especially concerning small group activities that would not make any sense to her.<p>

Orihime smiled in a nearly angelic way toward the other inmates of the Women's Division. Each member was sitting on opposite sides of the oddly circular room, the walls and floors blank and placed over with ovular tables. Toys, candy, threads and several food-related objects and novels were cluttered over these tables, as if designed to train the woman into the typical housewife mindset. The very idea slightly disturbed Orihime, yet that was the main problem with most of the inmates and, in particular, her cellmate.

Chizuru giggled slightly as she simply disassembled a small dollhouse, breaking apart a miniature bed that would have served as a resting place for the dolls hidden in the toy trunk. The childish arrangements were odd, though to the cross-minded women that were sitting and talking and knitting in small circles within the area, it was a perfect resting place.

Rukia scowled slightly as she observed her surroundings. Even as a young girl she never played with the typical toys that so many prized daughters would want. Dollhouses, plastic weapons, supermodel lookalike dolls and fake cooking supplies were not in her agenda of entertainment. When she was young she was used to watching old noir films with her brother Byakuya, before he even met Hisana. The black and white atmosphere and butchered dialogue of the old, campy movies had given her artistic inspiration since she was five years old.

She missed these moments, and the thought of it only made her fists and heart clench. Images of her older sibling flashed through her mind, threatening to send water toward her large, expressive purple eyes and to let such tears fall. She would never cry after the death of her brother and the destruction of the Kuchiki mansion. When Hisana practically abandoned her in forcing her into an asylum that barely had any rule of operation and understanding, she would not cry.

She was not a sensitive person. Her brother was very strict with her in the emotional value, and in her point of view she was a strong creature.

Though Byakuya and Hisana had agreed on several things about Rukia's unusually mature personality, they never came to the conclusion that she only paid attention to certain things. Rukia was strong, yes, but her lack of paying attention to her own temperament would lead her to lash out at numerous other students in the academies she attended as a child. She liked to be the stronger one, the one to challenge the boys in her class to arm wrestles and to win every single one.

However, in contradiction to her older self, she was very emotionally vulnerable as a little girl. This mostly led to the fact that she was odd-looking when young. Her features were even more babyish and held much larger eyes on a smaller face, with shorter black hair, a button-like nose and peach-colored cheeks. When she puckered her lips or sucked her thumb she would look like a chocolate-covered cherry with two purple markings. She was an odd, _odd _little girl.

But her brother was supportive of her. He was cold and distant to the strangers that competed against his long company lines, and the Kuchiki Corporation would never deplete in power as long as he was in charge of his management. He was a powerful person, and his demeanor oozed his aggressive yet mature and stoic personality. With his ways, he was consistent in getting what he wanted, and that would be included in fulfilling the wishes of his absolutely perfect yet secretly selfish witch of a wife, Hisana.

Rukia's teeth ground together as she bitterly recalled the title of her adopted sister. _Hisana… _the very name sent chills along her spine. She did not want to even _think _that looked _remotely _like the strange woman. Hisana was a false portrait of many images combined into one; the perfected picture of what Rukia so desperately wanted to be when she was younger. As a child she pictured Hisana as the flawless role model and someone to follow when it came to life's footsteps. Over the course of the years, and has her mind matured, the once untouched portrait of her sister had begun to fall into pieces.

Snapping out of her thoughts, she began to register her blank surroundings with a risen eyebrow. She was beginning to grow accustomed to the small environment, glancing over the strange women huddling around the collapsing dollhouses and the plastic figures that young girls played with between the ages of five and ten. Rukia shook her head. Some of them were beyond insane and envisioned themselves as children.

_I am not a child. I am Rukia. _She slowly held her breath, closing her eyes and letting her fingers tap against her palms in rhythmic motions. Each tap of her fingertip sent noticeable waves of reassurance through her body, reminding her of the chances to leave this drastic place in less than two weeks. She knew that, since her record was not very heavy and she had little experience with therapy, that not even money could keep her away from Hisana for long.

She knew that her sister had to have bribed the staff of the building to let her in. It would have been passed if they checked her records involving therapy and other mental situations that would have cost her the insanity and focus of any normal teenager. Flashes of her brother's face clouded her mind, driving her away from her focus and forcing her to remain still in the strange world.

The white walls, the white floors, the white ceiling fan… they glimmered in an iridescent light that sent splotches over the room, like an invisible disco ball. Rukia shook her head once more and opened her eyes, relishing the sight of the flickering light bulbs and the scurrying of feet distract her.

Orihime frowned slightly, looking up from a small coloring book that Rukia could have sworn she had seen in old restaurants. "Do you want to do this with me, Rukia?" Her smile was inviting and friendly, though Rukia could see the light twitch on the corner of her delicate mouth. The orange-haired girl seemed extremely fragile and weak to Rukia, and that slightly bothered her. After talking with the Inoue girl, Rukia had little recollection of why she had compared Orihime with Hisana. The two were absolutely nothing alike.

Orihime was not who she pictured herself to be, but that was not due to narcissism. It was due to a delusional mind and a fractured thinking process. The black-haired girl narrowed her eyes toward the coloring books, shrugging as she walked over to the ovular tables placed near the middle of the small white room.

Rukia frowned once Orihime's fingers began to tremble around the small colored pencils and broken crayons in her hands. "Are you alright?"

The orange-haired girl blinked, glancing from her drawings toward Rukia with a risen eyebrow. As soon as this occurred, her shaking had stopped. The Kuchiki made a mental note of this as she barely listened to her comrade. "I'm fine, Ms. Kuchiki… I just think that this room feels different today. And these coloring books are very different from the other ones." She bit her lip, flipping the pages and glancing at the glossy red cover art. "See? They look untouched and new…"

Rukia blinked. "New coloring books? Do you usually have old ones?" _Cheap asylum. Not even crazy people enjoy coloring books enough to do them a hundred times… _A sudden imagination of a group of adult women fighting over a stack of coloring books sent shivers of humor through Rukia's mind. She chuckled slightly, yet hid the shaking of her shoulders beneath her black hair.

Orihime nodded. "Yes, we always have the same ones. They never switch them out. If they do switch some of the old toys with new ones, they always have old dents in them. Not the books, but… you know, the toys. The dolls." She grinned timidly as she gestured toward the unrealistically proportioned dolls that Chizuru was playing with. Rukia noticed that the strange pink-haired girl was close to simply tearing each toy apart with her own teeth.

_She's definitely the odd one out. _She blinked at her own words, furrowing her brow. _Everyone's crazy here, though, so… _

Orihime frowned. "I can… I can tell you more about _him_."

The women immediately bolted up at this comment, staring toward Orihime with blank gazes that would have driven a stray cat into paralysis. Rukia's teeth ground at the gesture, and cursed herself in annoyance that she did not know what was so mysterious and strange about the white-haired boy.

During the confrontation at her lunch break, she was more than caught off guard by his unusual appearance. She remembered seeing a boy barely taller than her, with a rather youthful face, unusual tanned skin, spiky white hair and frosty teal eyes that seemed to pierce through every beating heart and soul in the area.

The Kuchiki crossed her arms, leaning against the chair that supported her small weight. "I think that you should tell me. Because I have absolutely no idea what the big deal is about him." She rolled her eyes. "My first question about him is why it's such a big deal to _not _make eye contact with him."

Some heads turned, though she would easily ignore them.

Orihime hesitated, her entire body shivering. "He… he chooses his prey with one gaze. He never switches from the one person until he eliminates them for good. Have you had any nightmares about him? Newcomers have nightmares…"

_Everyone's a loon here. They could have been just crazy about it. _Rukia barely remembered having her dreams, and rarely experienced them well enough to remember them the next morning. "No, I haven't had any nightmares. I don't always remember my dreams."

Orihime's lips curled into a pout. "That's unusual..."

"What happened to the last person to… suffer?" Rukia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "The whole thing seems farfetched to me." But in reality she was having an excited pulse of energy surging through her body. She wanted to know more about the mysterious white-haired boy that everyone was so afraid of.

"He died." The two words came in a whisper. "All of the others died, too… we think it has something to do with a curse."

Rukia blinked. "_All _of them died?"

"Yes." The woman pasted a fake smile on her face, giggling to disrupt the tension. "Maybe you should go back to your cell, Ms. Rukia. I don't think this will go over well for you unless you rest." Her words were grim, but her tone was high-pitched and far too joyful.

The Kuchiki resisted the urge to growl. _That can't be true. All of them died? From staring into his eyes? That doesn't make any sense. _She shook her head, pressing her thumbs to her temples and rolling them in circles.

A loud electronic bell sounded through the building. Rukia jumped at the sound, blushing slightly in embarrassment as the other women eyed her during her reaction. She huffed and stood from the table, crossing her arms and glancing toward the uniformed guards watching over them.

"What is it this time?"

"Watch your tongue, inmate," the middle guard sneered. "We will escort you one by one back to your cells."

* * *

><p>The Whitewall Lobby was the most occupied and most entertaining to the crazy cellmates that were forced to live in Rukongai Asylum. Rukia was slightly confused as she entered the large, wide-spaced area with little interest and a hardly curious expression on her face. There was nothing interesting about it to her.<p>

The walls, as the title suggested, were a pure unscathed white, far brighter a shade than the graffiti-covered rooms in every other corner of the relatively small loony bin. The ceiling was much lower, covered in glass lights that flickered in different patterns. The tables were the same as in the odd toy room: white, ovular and barely standing on decent legs. The only difference Rukia could see in the Lobby were the many, _many _long sofas that were formed in neat circles in the room.

She estimated that it was a sort of entertainment center with currently nothing activated, though her amount of suspicion was the only thing that contradicted her thought. Glancing around her, she watched as the male inmates left to one side of the room, and this was when she noticed the thick-branded consoles with covered names sitting under large television screens.

In several minutes, the men were absorbed in their video games. Rukia had never seen, or heard, of such a thing in her life. Hisana had placed her in an asylum with an entertainment center that had _video games_?

Shaking her head, she glanced over toward the Women's Division's side. The female residents were diving through large trunks of items, pulling them out one by one and surveying them with interest. It reminded Rukia of when they visited the small room flooded with knitting materials and childish toys.

Yet her heart quickly skipped a beat she as fixed her eyes on the very end of the room, where a certain silhouette was hunched over a white desk inside of a large glass box. The container was etched into the wall with a black security bar latched onto the lock of the nearly invisible door. Rukia held her breath as she examined the inmate.

It was the white-haired boy. He was staring into a small box set before him, as if trying to disassemble it without touching it. His brow was furrowed, his haunting eyes narrowed and cruelly tearing apart the essence of the box with every ounce of mental strength he possessed.

Rukia blinked in disbelief. No one seemed to care that the infamous man was kept inside of a _box_, with little to interact around him. Despite his negative reputation, Rukia felt her fists clench in utter disrespect for the asylum for letting this take place.

The Kuchiki absentmindedly sat on one of the armrests of a nearby sofa. She was fully absorbed with the white-haired man's actions and supposed thoughts. He was still focusing entirely on the small box. Rukia's eyes widened as he slowly opened the container, a scowl still plastered onto his facial features. The item he pulled out puzzled the girl.

It was a small square that resembled the design of a Rubik's Cube. The colors were neon green, blue and yellow.

Frowning, she watched as the man slowly rose an eyebrow. He was not happy with what he was holding in his hands, though he began to fiddle with the toy despite his hesitance. Rukia watched as he easily navigated the secrets of the tiny puzzle, matching the colored patterns together and turning the dials to be in perfect unison.

It was less than a minute later that he was able to solve the box.

Rukia blinked. _Maybe it's simpler than it looks? _She regretted ever watching him. As soon as he was finished with his miniscule task, his paralyzing blue-green eyes turned toward her.

For a moment, the hypnotizing gaze widened, then narrowed with the same intensity from the day before. Rukia could feel her heart pound against her chest, her fingers curling into her palms and clenching painfully against her skin. She wasn't able to pull away from his eyes, or the fiery plummeting in her stomach. Her wants to leave had vanished once the contact only deepened…

She could no longer register her other surroundings, only staring into the pair of eyes that watched her carefully and dutifully with immense interest. The scowl upon his features had slightly lessened, though the cold fire dwelling in his eyes… Rukia blinked, shaking her head and breaking the hypnotizing spell.

Fire…

_Intense, cerulean fire. Devouring her whole. _

Shakily, she rubbed a spot on her forehead. _What was that? _She was careful not to look at the white-haired man again… the title snapped her to attention. _No, Orihime told me his name. _She bit her lip, remembering the strange words that echoed through her mind in a manner that sounded like a pure, steady warning. _Toushiro. Toushiro Hitsugaya. _

This man, this _Hitsugaya _person was said to be a dangerous individual that killed without hesitation. The others had said he was damaged beyond repair, and was placed in large glass boxes relative to this one in many different areas, specifically designed for his liking and separating him forcefully from the rest of society.

More than anything, she wanted to learn more about him. The desire to piece together the blue-eyed monster's thoughts was now a permanent goal for Rukia. Closing her eyes, she tried to turn her attention away from the imprisoned monster and toward the rest of the Women's Division.

She failed to notice the monstrous eyes still glued to her form, even after breaking the spellbinding contact that would have made the experience eternal and traumatizing.

* * *

><p><em>11: 57.<em>

The rusted glass clock attached to the eastern wall was releasing a hypnotizing effect through his eyes, thoughts, and surroundings. The chains that so heavily bound his wrists and tugged harmfully against his skin would soon not be enough to constrain the might of a monster. Through the dark surroundings of the secluded cell in the Men's Division, the figure waited in utter silence under the pure blanket of blackness. The rays of moonshine were forbidden from entering his private quarters, forbidden from gracing his intelligent, dangerous eyes with want and the need to leave the forsaken place.

His skin was marred, his hair messy, blood staining the white portions of his uniform. He was strong. He was powerful.

His lips hardened into a deeper scowl, a low growl emitting from his throat. He had always watched the soldiers guarding his cell… yet now they were absent from his presence. Craning his neck, he observed his darkly pitched surroundings with uninterested, piercing glowing eyes. They remained to be the only source of light within the impeccable and discriminating atmosphere.

A clicking sound lifted within the small cell, and soon, between his clenched teeth he held a steel switchblade. In a matter of minutes the shackles were disabled, collapsing to the ground in swift motions. The figure stood against the darkness, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, his eyes widening once he took in the presence of the black room. Suddenly, his mind switched to the events earlier in the day, ignoring the growing scars around his wrists, ankles and neck.

_Eyes. _

_Eyes as stunning as autumn violets. _

His fingers twitched, a sigh escaping his tight lips as he motioned toward the door. Frowning, he observed the security code latched onto the door. Quickly, he dispatched the lock with forceful beating and attempts to solve it. The item crashed to the ground, yet it had not echoed through the halls of the asylum.

He had done this many times. The security that patrolled in the evening had a horrible attention span, and only on rare occasions did soldiers bother to check his cell to see if he was missing.

He smirked. They underestimated his intelligence.

Clenching the switchblades in his hands, he easily motioned through the blackened hallways with disinterest. His scowl was not taking over his lips, his brow furrowing and his eyes large and steady as they searched for their target.

The woman. The strange black hair, the porcelain skin, the rosy lips, and the dark purple eyes… she had turned to him.

_Twice. _

She had asked for a depressing fate that he always dealt upon the residents that would dare make eye contact with him. He was not normal, though he most certainly wasn't an imbecile. He was intelligent and far more superior in his ways of thinking compared to the strange guards that walked by the Women's Division cells every night.

It was not long before he had arrived in front of her door.

He had observed the numbers imprinted on her uniform both times they had made eye contact. He memorized the haunting numbers, imprinted them in his memory, forced them into his thoughts and would never let them leave.

He hated how only two encounters made his skin crawl, his heart beat, and sweat to pile over his palms. He never liked being the subject of another's mental turmoil, whether it was platonic or anything above it. He knew that he was intelligent yet monstrous, that he was handsome yet dangerous…

He was the perfect beacon for death, especially amongst the Women's Division.

Cautiously, the door had opened, and he stepped inside.

His eyes widened slightly as he observed the calm atmosphere, the colorful carpet strewn across the floors, the simple wardrobe in the corner and the opened door to the single bathroom. His steps were silent, and his gaze was taught with absolute hunger and hatred for the individual that lived in this small cell.

Clenching the switchblade tightly in his hands, he approached the bed, a growl threatening to escape his throat.

_He imagined the woman from before, her pretty face caked with her own blood, her clothes torn from the slash marks of his weapon, her raven-colored hair thrown about in a rough, tangled manner…_

His eyes had widened to a state that would have looked disturbing to many people, yet the obsession that lingered behind such eyes only made his teeth grind in frustration. Twirling the blade in his hands, he lifted it above her head.

The girl turned in her slumber, her smooth marble skin exposed to her assailant. Her hair was tangled yet framed her delicate heart-shaped face like a befallen halo. Her pretty, thin lips were a pale rosy color, puckered in her sleep as she dreamt. Her long lashes fluttered against her flawless skin like small butterfly wings, her stunning purple eyes currently unavailable for the white-haired man to see.

He paused in his swing, registering the appearance of the woman. She appeared so innocent, so frail, so easy to slaughter, and yet…

Clenching the blade tightly in his hands, he slowly flicked it back into place and lowered his fists. He would not kill. Not tonight.

Glowering toward the woman that had somehow returned his hypnotic spell, he would try to forget this night. Stalking toward the doors, he angrily trudged into the hallways, attempting to forget that he ever set his target upon the angel lying peacefully in her bed, her covers thrown about her and her bedraggled appearance resembling something so peaceful and pure… that not even he, the infamous Toushiro Hitsugaya, could break through the shield.

_I have killed many. _He snarled, glaring over his shoulder toward the room that he carefully sealed shut. He was not one for letting his targets live.

He would not let the siren bind him again.

_Next time, it will be done..._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Please review! :) And tell me what you think. I'm obsessed with updating this story, and after this is finished I will work on the recreation of <strong>_**Colors**_**, since I took it down without much of a notice…**_

_**Again, this chapter is shorter and hopefully more tolerable to some people. Please review and tell me what you think! I will update as soon as possible! **_

_**~Dusk**_


	3. Chapter Three: The Meeting

**Title: **_When the Jailbirds Sing_

**Rating: **_M_

**Genre: **_Horror/Suspense/Action/Drama/Romance_

**Pairing: **_Toushiro Hitsugaya x Rukia Kuchiki_

**Setting: **_Alternate Universe_

**Disclaimer: **_Disclaimed_

**Summary: **_After the death of her beloved older brother Byakuya and the destruction of her home, Rukia Kuchiki is sent to an asylum by her paranoid sister-in-law, Hisana Kuchiki. While living in the asylum as someone who thinks she does not belong, Rukia encounters the grave tales of a dangerous inmate known to kill first and talk later. This white-haired sociopath is said to be damaged beyond any source of care that the asylum can give him. As soon as they make eye contact, a dangerous game of obsession and horror is woven. "No one has lived long in my presence. And you, Kuchiki, will be no different than anyone else." Because when the jailbirds sing, the one and only gets what he wants._

* * *

><p>Her tongue swept smoothly over her glossy lips. She had let each word delicately slide over her tongue, like the smoothness of a dead animal traveling through a serpent's hungry mouth. Her flawless ivory-skinned fingers held the cell phone with great care and dedication, as if she scripted each and every move with confidence and intelligence.<p>

She was smart. She knew this.

Hisana chuckled once the voices on the other end began to ponder her requests and orders. As a Kuchiki she received several responsibilities that normally would not have been accessible if it were not for her stepsister's departure. "Yes, yes, I would like the Kuchiki Corporation to continue with their current projects. I will oversee in Byakuya Kuchiki's place… yes, yes, it's a tragedy. I'm still torn by his death."

She paused, her brow arching.

"Pardon? No, his sister is not here. I was forced to place her in a sanitarium's care. Therapy was simply not enough to take care of her strange visions. She constantly rambled about her poor brother." The woman tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, pondering the words slipping on the other end. "You want specification…? On what?" She clenched her free fist, biting her tongue. "Those are family matters. They are private, and with Rukia Kuchiki absent it is _my _duty to tell _you_, as _my _employees, how to do _your _job. And I know for a fact it does not involve arguing with me."

She grinned in satisfaction as the hostile tone disappeared on the other side. Smirking and whispering her goodbyes, she snapped the device shut and closed her eyes in recollection of her timeless conversations.

With such a rundown mental institute like Rukongai Asylum, she knew that she would be able to buy her way through. Byakuya was constantly fond of how Rukia was able to hold herself together. To Hisana it was a flaw that she would never bring up with anyone inside of their family.

What she despised the most about Rukia was the fact that she knew. She _knew _that Hisana only wanted her away from the house, away from all of the business discussions and changes that she was creating. While her sister would remain in a place such as Rukongai Asylum, she would bask in the glory of the Kuchiki name that she so desperately wanted.

Hisana blinked and looked at the corner of the her desk once her phone began to ring. Quickly, she flipped the item open and pressed her ear to it, plastering an angelic smile upon her features and batting her lashes to no one in particular.

"Hello? This is Hisana Kuchiki, temporary substitution for Rukia Kuchiki and widow of Byakuya Kuchiki." Her lips formed a tight line as the voice registered. "Yes? Is there a problem with my recent payment, Sir?"

"_Yes, actually. There is an enormous problem with the amount you sent to us. You promised twice the normal profit of a regular inmate. You have failed to give us any account of any sort of warning for your payments, and have been frequently late. Do not disappoint us with such faulty lies."_

Hisana's breath caught in her throat. This was not the guard she had spoken to the night she appointed Rukia. She was not familiar with such a masculine, deep voice, one that commanded her will to flow through its silky tone and become mesmerized. She wanted nothing to do with this stranger…

"I'm afraid I don't know who I'm speaking to…"

"_That is not important. Now, answer my following questions without hesitation. If you refuse to reply within the wanted amount of time I will raise suspicions with my security and return your assigned inmate back to your residence with three times the charge you initially owe us—"_

"Please, Sir!" Hisana frowned, biting her lip. "Please, just let me speak. I just want to know your name. I-I promise I will not ask for anything else. I sent you your payment through an envelope signed with the Kuchiki stamp—"

"_Stop talking."_

She immediately snapped shut, nodding silently to herself.

"_Good. Now, repeat to me the payment that was required to admit Rukia Kuchiki into Rukongai Asylum."_

Hisana gulped. "Five hundred dollars, Sir…"

"_That is incorrect."_

The woman blinked. "W-What? What are you talking about?"

"_The original payment is two thousand dollars. You did not read and sign our papers that made you look at the raised sense of care for your inmate."_

Hisana's cheeks turned bright pink. "Two thousand dollars? I beg your pardon, there is no conceivable way that your statement is correct! When I was talking with the soldier over the phone the night before I took Rukia to _your _asylum, he said that five hundred dollars was the amount!"

"_Five hundred dollars for submission, Mrs. Kuchiki." _

If she knew any better, she could have sworn the man on the other end was smiling.

"_An additional five hundred for an inmate uniform, and a full one thousand for the realization for us that your submission has no therapeutic or sanitarium records. Thus, you have submitted and individual that is unfit for psychological treatment. You do realize that is borderline illegal, do you not, Mrs. Kuchiki?"_

Sweat beading over her skin, Hisana shook her head. She wanted to scream at the unfairness of the situation, and how painfully angry she was feeling when confronting someone that clearly had a more silver tongue than she would ever obtain. She knew that she had no choice.

There was no way for her to lie.

"Yes… yes, I do realize the consequences… but my reasons are private and, personally, as her close and only living relative, I find that it is in my responsibility and concern to place my sister wherever I please."

A pause on the other end sent a wave of relief through the distraught woman. A frown painted her features as she heard scuffling, as if someone was shuffling through papers.

"_You sent us documents containing minor files of brief hourly sessions with a therapist. Though these only lasted for several weeks. They are not submissions for mental institutes of any kind."_

Hisana blinked. "Trust me, her insanity at this household is astoundingly high! You must believe me!"

"_Send us six thousand dollars through a pay check, and Ms. Rukia Kuchiki will remain in Rukongai Asylum."_

Muttering an agreement, she snapped the phone shut and collapsed into her chair. Hisana buried her face into her hands, whimpering at the possibilities of her actions, and how everything could not have fallen together so terribly.

* * *

><p>The morning routine was essentially difficult for Rukia to memorize. Very early in the morning, she was forced to wake up from her well-rested slumber and slip into her institutional garments. They were made from a cotton-like material and were greatly uncomfortable of the athletic activities that followed a solid march with the other female inmates in one of the white-walled rooms.<p>

Every room appeared the same to her, and at this point she did not bother remembering the titles or numbers of each one. When she saw how her fellow inmates reacted around the rooms, she knew exactly what they were.

The Kuchiki's nose wrinkled in disgust as she stared at her plastic tray. A scoop of a sludge-like substance, a gelatin cube, plain white rice and a stem of rotten grapes sat untouched and lonely upon her dish. She wanted nothing more than to throw the plate into one of the soldier's faces and make _them _march hundreds of knee-aching laps in a tiny confined room.

"Is there something wrong with your food Ms. Rukia?" The cheerful, bubbly voice of Orihime Inoue interrupted the grumpy girl's thoughts. Immediately, the posture of the Kuchiki began to soften once she glanced across the table toward her companion. In truth, the type of personality that belonged to Orihime would have normally annoyed Rukia to a breaking point. But the fact that it was not easy to interact with these insane individuals was enough of a reason for Rukia to engage in normal conversation with the orange-haired woman.

"The food's disgusting." Rukia frowned. "I don't understand how you could eat that…" She grimaced once she noticed the gelatin had painted Orihime's lips in a very gross manner. The other girl shrugged and continued shoveling large amounts of food into her mouth, chewing in a content and seemingly happy way. "I don't think this stuff is even edible." She frowned, her eyes narrowing at the thought of Hisana creating something similar to this blasted food. Hisana could cook, but on occasion Rukia wondered if her sister-in-law had ever slipped dabbles of poison or something highly toxic into her meals…

"You don't know if it's gross yet. You haven't tried it!" Orihime smiled. "I'm still puzzled why you're still here." She pouted slightly and looked up from her rapidly emptying food tray. "Did you dream of anything last night?"

Suddenly, the table quieted. Several pairs of eyes turned toward Rukia at the question, as if daring for her to answer.

Rukia blinked, frowning slightly at the odd choice of words. She had not dreamt of anything the previous night. Through her tossing and turning in her sleep, she was restless and had little recollection of ever being interrupted in her slumber. Though, at moments she could have sworn she felt like she was being watched…

The thought sent shivers along her spine, tingling her wrists and causing her fingers to curl into her palms.

"No, I didn't have any dreams last night."

"Oh." Orihime frowned. "None? That's strange. Usually his victims have dreams and nightmares before he kills them…" Rukia rolled her eyes. She hated it when the female inmates were in a hyperactive and overly happy state of mood but often said quite morbid things. "Normally they don't last this long."

Chizuru, sitting next to the orange-haired girl with a sharp glare behind her blotched glasses, sent Rukia a daggered look. "I think that he found your cell." She ground her teeth and snarled, as if adding sound effects to a monster film. "Did you see the way he was eyeing you the other day? He wanted to kill you. Then and there."

The Kuchiki glared in return, folding her arms across her chest. "If he wanted to kill me, and if he's as dangerous as you say, I think he would have gotten rid of me by now." In truth, she was very curious about the strange white-haired prisoner that everyone was so desperately afraid of.

_Hitsugaya. Toushiro Hitsugaya. _

She remembered the name, let it engrave upon the surface of her every thought, her every action and every recollection. She slightly wished that she could understand the background of such a name, and know more about the mysterious prisoner that held such a quiet countenance to him.

Glancing over her shoulder, she examined the silver table placed at the corner of the room. As she had expected, the supposed murderer was sitting in the same white chair, his arms, legs, wrists and ankles chained to a point that it would have been impossible for him to escape.

His eyes were closed, as if he was resting.

Rukia frowned. "Where are the guards?"

Chizuru snorted. "They're on their own lunch break. Idiots don't bother to watch the goon when he's asleep. I think he's pretending. He never sleeps."

_Never sleeps? _Rukia scowled. "That's not humanly possible."

"No one ever said he was human," the cherry-haired girl countered, sneered. "Does he look like a person who would sleep?"

The Kuchiki frowned at this. "He looks human to me. Why he looks like an animal to you seems odd. He has eyes, a nose, a mouth, ears, legs, arms, hands, lips, head hair—"

"You know, no one likes a smartass!" Chizuru snapped, yet her cheeks were flushed a deep shade of red. Beside her, Orihime released a sporadic trail of giggles. She was unable to contain herself.

For the moment, and just this once, Rukia would shield her annoyance for Orihime and let her have her laughing moment. She was far less patient with the beautiful inmate when she was excited about something small for no reason in particular. Though this was not an educational institute, it was an asylum… and at the moment Rukia needed to obey the strict rules that flowered at every corner like a temperamental war of weeds.

Rukia then frowned, her thoughts suddenly clicking. She turned to the Inoue girl with one risen eyebrow. "Orihime, do you still have your cookie? I ate mine." Once every meal, the lunch lady or man would be kind enough to give them a simple treat. The tasteless cookies with stale white chocolate chips were a rare sight, and provided a much easier atmosphere with the inmates when they were able to bite through something so bittersweet and somehow pleasing.

Orihime groaned at the thought. "Yes, I do… I don't understand why you like them. The normal food is so much better!" She insisted, shaking her head while taking the small cookie from her plate. Rukia smiled as she gratefully took the treat in her hands, looking over her shoulder once more toward the excluded prisoner.

Chizuru's eyes widened in horror. "What are you doing? You're crazy! The guards will be back before you know it and you'll be crazy!"

Rukia ignored her. Without a glance over her shoulder and a straight face, she calmly lifted herself from the cafeteria table and strode toward the single oval, where the individual she wanted to talk to appeared to be sleeping.

She tuned out the squeaks and squeals of horror rising from the female inmates, turning her attention fully to the lightly tanned face of the man resting in the same exact spot where he always was. Clearing her throat, the black-haired woman looked toward his tiny dish of plain white rice and a small glass of water.

The soldiers had left him to try to eat for himself.

_Pigs. _Rukia inwardly rolled her eyes. She wanted to scoff at the way the soldiers treated the people that lived in such a wretched place. It was not a hellhole but it most certainly needed better attention from its staff members. She knew that the security was, at times, very lethal and destructive. Though, in other moments, she felt as if the guards were lazy and had selective attention when regarding the inmates.

Rukia sighed in a shaky motion, her gaze darting toward the clock on the wall.

_Five minutes. I have enough time. _

Once she turned to look toward the man again, his left eye was wide open.

Watching her every moment.

And just as before, she was unable to move, unable to _think_, underneath such a stilling and powerful stare. The emotional eyes were filled with far too many expressions to count, each and every one a mixture between negative and positive. Though, when the eye was directed toward her, she felt a twinge of pressure that resided in her stomach, more effective than any butterflies she would feel in much smaller situations as a child.

"Um…" She bit her tongue, refusing to stumble over her own words. "Toushiro… Toushiro Hitsugaya." She felt idiotic, the hairs along the back of her neck rising once she noticed the man's eyes had both opened, staring at her with confusion and shock present in both glowing orbs. They wanted to know why she was present, and more than anything Rukia could see the desire for her to leave in those glassy green portals. "I… I just wanted to talk."

His lips pulled into a deep frown, his brow furrowing. "…"

Rukia blinked, placing her cookie on the table and pushing it lightly toward him. "This is for you. I don't like them anyway…" She looked toward his pathetic excuse for a lunch plate and looked back toward the cafeteria table. Most of the women were watching her with horrified, confused yet sometimes careless stares that reminded Rukia of the women that were acquainted with Hisana. As a child the social business parties between her brother's successful company and many others was the main stepping stone toward meeting the woman that resembled her in so many ways…

"Leave."

Rukia blinked, her heart thumping in nervousness as she glanced back toward the man. His glare was harder than before, laced with an icy overtone that would have frozen her to the core if she was not so determined to know more about him. The one word that slipped through his lips was an entirely new stepping stone… one that she wanted to take.

"I'm not going to, until you eat that cookie." The demand was stupid and she knew it was childish, through the confusion in the other's eyes and his risen eyebrow was enough to drive her forward. It was like coaxing a cat to catch a lolloping goldfish.

The prisoner released a low, rumbling growl. "Get out of my sight."

_Wow, I was able to get him to say a full sentence. _She smirked at her own sarcasm. "No. I already told you I'm not leaving until you eat that cookie." She shrugged her shoulders, nonchalantly crossing her arms and observing the tips of her fingernails with disinterest. "I'm getting tired of standing here. It's your own fault."

The man twitched, a vein popping in the corner of his forehead.

"I am warning you…" He snarled.

Rukia knew she was treading in dangerous, _dangerous _territory. She felt like a mouse squeezing between the thick iron bars of a lion's cage, just waiting to be devoured whole.

When he refused to speak, she sighed and dropped her tense posture.

"Listen, I just felt bad so I wanted to talk to you and see if you would actually eat something halfway decent. It's cruel to leave food in front of you like that and watch you fail in trying to eat it." Her blunt tone and complete change of attitude surprised the man, though the only way she knew was due to the slight widening of his teal-colored gaze. "I know what it's like to be taunted, and to be openly humiliated in front of so many people, and it's honestly frustrating for me to see another human being suffering through that kind of treatment. Watching it is worse than enduring it. Believe me." Her eyes slightly softened. "I'm sorry for wasting your time."

And she meant it. With a slight sigh, the girl turned and left for the table.

Leaving the prisoner to stare at her offered treat with a wrinkled nose.

* * *

><p>The Theatre Center was the largest, most organized room in the entire asylum. The tiled walls and floors were covered in different assortments of wallpaper, ranging from multicolored hues to strange patterns that would have woven into lovely carpets or other fine pieces of clothing. Former plastic seats were now covered in leather cushions that were forcefully removed from sofas, tied to each seat with satisfactory results. A large fan attached to the ceiling moved in a swift bladed circle, releasing waves of cool air through the area that made the atmosphere far more comfortable to settle in. On the very end of the room, at a proper distance from the crowd of well-assorted seats, was a large projection screen that the soldiers gradually attended hour by hour to play certain productions.<p>

Both male and female inmates were present in the Theatre Center. Her fists clenched at her sides, Rukia waited until she was able to be seated at the closest location possible, the one nearest to the exit where the soldiers stood at perfect attention. Instead of clubs or more minor weapons, they were carrying full loaded guns that clearly intimidated each and every person in the large area.

Once she placed herself upon the soft leather cushion, she knew it was more comfortable than the stale mattress she had such a terrible sleep in the night before. The texture was smooth and irresistibly soft yet not hot or sticky like the leather surface of car seats. She wanted to sink into the grasp of the theater chair with nothing else around her, just to relax and think with her eyes closed.

A sharp nudge grabbed Rukia's attention. Growling, she punched the arm of the man who bumped into her. Scowling, she looked into the narrowed brown eyes of one of the most angry-looking men she had ever seen.

He had sharp, angled features, which would have been considered handsome if it were not for the sharp glare through his chocolate-colored eyes and the harsh scowl over his lips. The vibrant orange top of hair that sat upon his head was a strange addition that, to Rukia, did not fit such a masculine and scary-looking set of facial features.

"Watch where you're going. You almost bumped me off," she said bluntly, glaring at him. She wanted to watch his eyes burst out of their sockets if she punched him hard enough… the thought made her smile.

The stranger frowned. "Shut up, Midget! And don't talk during the movie. You'll upset the guards," he hissed through gritted teeth, gesturing with a flick of his head toward the uniformed soldiers. "Those bastards will take any opportunity to bust our asses. So watch it." He sent her a final glare before turning his attention back toward the screen.

Rukia frowned. _Everyone seems so interested in watching these things. Are they special movies or something? _

Her thoughts were interrupted as several white flashes occurred on the opposite end, startling the conversing men and women as they were finally allowed to socialize. Rukia guessed that it was the most exciting moment for the females if they had any particular interest in the male inmates, though she found it unlikely since they were kept from contacting them in any way during regular hours.

"Damnit! We're watching _The Notebook _again?" A frustrated, ragged grunt came from a red-haired man that reminded Rukia of a muscular tattooed pineapple. He whispered something to the carrot-top, receiving a nod of agreement from the man that was smart enough to remain quiet while one of the guards clicked their guns in response to the redhead's complaining.

Rukia's nose wrinkled. _I really don't want to watch this… _She cocked an eyebrow as several of the female inmates sighed in awe and relief at seeing such a film. A large majority of the men groaned and looked at each other, as if in need of masculine support. Rukia slightly smirked to herself. The men seemed way more entertaining and interactive than the women.

It was then, with a strike of solemnity and pity, that Rukia noticed the single leather chair sitting alone in the male's section of the room. He was far closer than in any other situational rooms where everyone was forced to be interactive, yet the policy of Rukongai Asylum had the dangerous Toushiro Hitsugaya accompany every single activity that was calendared…

The Kuchiki shook her head. The man was constrained once more, a shackle adorning his neck with two more clasped around his ankles and wrists to the armrests and legs of the chair. Rukia felt a lump of sickness rise in her stomach, her fists clenching in frustration and anger for the man's barbaric treatment.

For some bizarre reason, she wanted to help him.

The screen turned white once more, groans of disappointment flooding through the women's side of the audience. Rukia watched as several soldiers tended to the technological difficulties, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her temples.

"So, Midget, what's your story?"

Rukia blinked and leaned forward at the voice, glaring toward the carrot-top. His lips were turned upward in a rare smirk that somehow did not suit his angular face. She growled at him.

"None of your business. I have no interest in talking to you."

The man frowned. "Do you honestly think I'm trying to hit on you or something? Ever since you got here people have been talking about you." Rukia could detect nothing but sheer honesty in his voice, yet her skin still pricked with uneasiness.

"Why would they do that?" She shrugged.

"Part of it is that you don't seem to have a mental problem… you seem fine." He scowled. "Not that I know you, but you have the right idea. Part of it has to do with your last name. I don't know who you are, but… a lot of others do." He paused. "And part of it has to do with the fact that you made eye contact with Hitsugaya and you're still sitting here as if nothing happened."

Rukia blinked and ground her teeth. "Why does everyone keep saying that? It's not a big deal. It's just a stupid myth that you crazies believe in."

The carrot-top snorted. "Whatever. You've only been here for, what, two days? You wouldn't know a thing about how we work around here. You've just seen the baby steps, you brat."

Rukia scowled. "Hmph. I'm not a brat or a midget. I'm _Rukia. _Just _Rukia_." She crossed her arms. "What's your name, anyway? If you don't tell me I'll just start calling you a carrot-top or something. Your hair is freaky bright. And orange." She grinned at the slight flush that stained his cheeks. "Well?"

"Ichigo." He muttered, turning to look at the pineapple-headed man next to him. Rukia smirked in amusement as she heard him whisper. "Fucking bitch…"

"Wow. You're horrible at whispering." She snickered once Ichigo bolted up, glaring at her as if in some random moment a lightning bolt would strike her and befall her painfully smart mouth.

"Shut up… Midget." He grinned once the girl fumed, smacking his shoulder with an angry twitch present on her forehead. He winced and rubbed the spot, yet refused to say anything in return as the white flashes of the projector resumed to life.

Rukia sat through the film with a blank mind.

* * *

><p>"…<em>I just felt bad so I wanted to talk to you and…"<em>

"…_It's cruel to leave food in front of you…"_

"_I know what it's like to be taunted, and to be openly humiliated…"_

"…_me to see another human being suffering…"_

"_I'm sorry for wasting your time."_

He replayed the conversational pieces over and over through his mind. With the film rolling so effortlessly in front of his gaze, he washed every black and white detail of the projection out of his mind. They were replaced with the soft words of the girl that dared speak to him, that _dared _to even think of approaching him… and she knew the risks. She knew the dangers she could suffer.

Yet why did her words seem so painfully different from anything else he had heard before? He was frustrated, unfocused… he needed to think. Once the soldiers transferred him back to his original cell he thought that it would be easier to think, to simply dismiss the presence of the woman and only acknowledge the fact that she was nothing but a distraction. She was useless, just another creature that would soon perish by anyone's hand. If not his, anyone's. Anyone would kill her… anyone would harm someone like her… wouldn't they?

He breathed slowly, carefully and shallowly. Toushiro Hitsugaya opened his eyes, glancing around his blank room with disinterest. Running a hand through his thick, tousled white hair, he pondered over the night before, on how he was so close to simply slitting her throat and watching the crimson liquid stain her precious, perfect pearly skin…

The way she looked at him, those large, hypnotizing eyes…

Dark. Purple. Womanly. Mature. Emotional. Expressive…

So many different elements rolled into a single compound. He had seen what was behind her eyes, behind the vale of violet and strong façade that she held so well around the other inmates. She was a fool to think that a charming sarcastic personality was going to let her live through such a heinous place.

Frowning, he glanced toward the treat sitting untouched on the other side of his bed. It was concealed in a plastic bag as a leftover from his lunch, yet he had refused to even lay his eyes on it until he was out of the soldiers' sight.

That blasted cookie was driving him insane.

_Why was she so kind to me? _He kept thinking. He was constantly confused and when he spoke to her, he knew she was the first and only person that had spoken to him once and lived.

She gave him a gift.

His eyes narrowed at the present, slowly dragging the bag toward his lip. He fingered the seal with hesitation in his eyes, his thoughts reverting back to the exhausted look within the purple-eyed maiden's stature, her every word and every mannerism seeping into his mind and forming a permanent stamp within his memories. He would never forget the moment she pushed the simple, tasteless treat toward him across his private table.

Slowly, he cracked open the bag, and pulled out the cookie.

With a skeptical look in his eyes, he nibbled around the edges, savoring the flavors.

Still, all he could think about were the stunning violet crystals that longingly only wanted to give him compassion and understanding.

The two words never played a sentence in his mind before.

For the first time, a small grin slid over his lips. In a matter of minutes, he finished the pastry with crumbs still left clouding his lips.

For this one night, he did not leave his cell.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Please review! I will update as soon as possible. I tried to make this chapter as sort of a filler yet a buildup as a same time for Rukia and Hitsugaya's relationship. Obviously nothing has really happened. Hisugaya is still a psycho basket-case, just with a little more curiosity with the way Rukia is treating him… :)<strong>_

_**Thank you for reading! **_


	4. Chapter Four: The Snake

**Title: **_When the Jailbirds Sing_

**Rating: **_M_

**Genre: **_Horror/Suspense/Action/Drama/Romance_

**Pairing: **_Toushiro Hitsugaya x Rukia Kuchiki_

**Setting: **_Alternate Universe_

**Disclaimer: **_Disclaimed_

**Summary: **_After the death of her beloved older brother Byakuya and the destruction of her home, Rukia Kuchiki is sent to an asylum by her paranoid sister-in-law, Hisana Kuchiki. While living in the asylum as someone who thinks she does not belong, Rukia encounters the grave tales of a dangerous inmate known to kill first and talk later. This white-haired sociopath is said to be damaged beyond any source of care that the asylum can give him. As soon as they make eye contact, a dangerous game of obsession and horror is woven. "No one has lived long in my presence. And you, Kuchiki, will be no different than anyone else." Because when the jailbirds sing, the one and only gets what he wants._

* * *

><p><em>Pain.<em>

_Sharp, fiery, scorching pain delved into his flesh and curled against his muscles like nothing else in his life. His gums suffered through the vale of torture, his teeth numb and unfocused. His eyes were large, stretching against his skin like dinner saucers. His entire body was wretched into strange directions, altering the laws of physics and transcending the rules of reality. His concentration was foiled; his body and mind now separated entirely. _

_The poetic achievement, disastrous as it was, drove him into madness. The cool, icy flames that buried his soul and captured his every thought were now rebounding into a full circle. He had barely seen the flesh and souls rip and tear beneath his grip; he had barely noticed how desperate and shameless the cries of defeat and sadness were emitting from the mouths of his prey. _

_In a state of complete panic and loss of realization, he was not able to control himself. He was unable to notice how his strength doubled, how powerful his mind would become without him actually controlling it… he was a true monster: a creature of death, destruction and bloodshed. _

_The chains that imprinted marks and scars through his lightly tanned skin provided a sense of endangerment and fear within his heart that he chose to ignore. At least, he attempted to. Nothing seemed more frightening than experiencing the metal clasps binding his wrists and ankles, forcing him into one state of recollection and panic. With his thoughts focusing on the dreaded tethers and leather materials, metal, and steel embroideries, he was pulled completely away from the settling pain and the thoughts of fear that still rested in his mind. _

_Hitsugaya chose to fight the painful urge. He chose to succeed against it, to struggle against it and force it upon its knees. He wanted to destroy whatever would happen, destroy whatever would occur… he wanted nothing more than to escape the dreaded bonds of steel and metal that only concealed his body and not his vibrant soul. _

_Yet, this dark spirituality that held him together was an existence of darkness and lack of mercy. His entire existence was smothered in bloodshed. He knew this. He knew very well that he would never have redemption. Yet in the blink of an eye, his memories began to dissolve, as if he was purposefully driving them away, to watch them dissipate into nothingness. His fingers ached, curling against his palms as he dreadfully suppressed the energetic waves of memories and excitement that constantly pulsated through his veins._

_Yet he fought it. He did not want to relive such images. _

_Yet her face… her delicate, berry-colored shin, her elegant round yet feminine face dotted with two perfect light-shaded eyes and a tender smile… _

_Who would corrupt something so flawless and untouched? _

_Her image occurred in flashes. Like light bulbs flickering with the last amount of electricity, waiting to die and waiting to live in darkness until they would be replaced with new sources of fuel. _

_Hitsugaya swallowed, his eyes closing in recollection… the very thoughts racing through his confused and troubled mind screamed to be silenced. The images, oh… those horrific pictures of the sweet woman he kept remembering. At times, he could recall her voice, her delicate words, her playful attitude, her impossibly soft brown hair the color of molten chocolate tied into a high bun… she was a woman of innocence in every aspect of the word. _

_Yet, in a matter of seconds, the image would shatter and be replaced by something entirely different. The same face, but coated in remnants of shadow and hatred directed toward him that rivaled the insanity of a serial killer. Those lovely doe-like eyes were now narrowed with venom and terror, skin as glowing as the juice of a peach now turning red with defiance. The face appeared ugly when angered. No, it appeared absolutely revolting. _

_But he could not remember why… why was this woman..._

_Why was she so hateful? Why did she hate him so much? _

* * *

><p>With a sickening chuckle, the slim stature of a single white cigarette performed slight flips before landing perfectly onto his scruffy, smelly mouth. With a certain growl of satisfaction, the strange masculine resident drew his tongue over his lips, as if his company needed the image permanently engraved into their memories. His hair was slicked back against his bulbous head, his posture slacking and not the least bit intimidating, and his eyes were lazy and shaded amber.<p>

His uniform, unlike the others', was shredded in several places, as if he had been into several brawls just the night before. Tattoos and scars covering his biceps were bulging like steroid-induced animal hearts through the torn cloth of his shirt. With a natural sick grin, he watched every single female inmate walk by to the different entertainment facilities with a clear perverse interest in mind.

"What the hell are you looking at Hoko?" The burly man snorted, glancing over his shoulder toward a tall, slender man with an angry scowl, burning brown eyes and the stupidest shade of orange hair he had ever seen. Chuckling slightly at the ridiculousness of the situation, Hoko cocked his head and started puffing another cigarette.

"Just the ladies… nothing new, nothing interesting. As usual." He earned a small chuckle of approval from the unintelligent delinquents slouching around him on the lunch table. With a snort, he gestured toward the familiar longhaired woman with an extremely curvy physique and startling naïveté. "'Cept Inoue, of course…" He purred slightly at the thought of the woman. "Lovely…"

The carrot-top's face contorted into a sharp scowl, one that was far deeper than the previous one. Hoko noticed the man's fists clench in clear anger and frustration that rivaled the temperament of a bothered bulldog.

"You really have nothing better to do then, you stuck-up bastard?" The sharp comment earned a chuckle of disbelief and approval from the others watching the small epidemic. Hoko was never challenged unless a cocky male newbie every once in a while would mouth off to him. He had killed some inmates in secret in several occasions that the guards would never take notice of. He was too ignorant to even think that the higher people overlooking the asylum wouldn't know…

"Watch your tongue, Carrot-top." Hoko grinned slightly, flicking the crumpled and used cigarette toward the other man with a risen eyebrow. "You gotta problem with me? I barely said a single thing to ya and you're suddenly honking at me like ya know me or somethin'…" He chuckled somewhat. "I think you're being too… touchy." He gestured once more toward the small group of women on the other side of the room, talking to each other behind the long line of armed soldiers. "See those? Just the small ones. The prize is Inoue. Since when do you see a girl like that in a crazy nest like this?"

Ichigo's frown deepened. Who the hell did this guy think he was? It wasn't his business insulting him out of the blue and trying to bruise his ego, though something about him bothered him greatly. The way he walked, talked, bullied and harassed the other inmates was something that he himself had witnessed. Not once did he think that the actions were justifiable in any way. Yet he was not as crazy as the other male inmates, he had moments of outright arrogance that far surpassed normality. At times he would consider himself far more able to commit murder for the sake of his confidence…

Yet, with Renji and his past therapists' advice, he was quick in dropping the habit.

Shaking his head, he grabbed the plastic fork sitting next to his tray and began prodding his cold spaghetti. "I just think you're a stuck-up egomaniac. But whatever. Don't listen to me." Ichigo smirked. "You're going to die, anyway."

This caused a silent uproar in Hoko's mind. Ichigo noticed the twitch of annoyance and the sharp, stabbing glare that was resting in Hoko's enraged sap-colored eyes. Without a single edge of control over himself, Hoko reached across the table and snatched Ichigo's collar, pulling him close.

In a matter of seconds he was lying on the floor with over a dozen tranquilizer darts embedded into his back.

The triumphant soldiers gave each other significant nods of approval and continued with their straight line of protection. Ichigo frowned at this, scratching his scalp while he observed the small table cluttered with women.

He grinned slightly, his mind clicking to the previous night at the Theatre Center, where an appealing black-haired midget with a tiny body, pretty eyes and feisty personality sat beside him. If he were anyone else he knew that he would have thought she was stunning. She was attractive in a unique way: small yet emotionally powerful, with a strange aspect of appearance that somewhat matched a doll.

_An angry doll. Scary one. _He laughed to himself at the thought. A silent nudge drew the orange-headed man's attention. He glanced over his shoulder toward Renji, whose eyes were sharp with determination and frustration with his roommate and friend.

"Come on. We gotta go." He gestured to the large clock on the wall, and in minutes the guards began to disperse from their location. Several bothered to watch the female and inmates turn their backs to each other and stride back to their cells. In a matter of twenty to thirty minutes they would be released again to have another rotation in the physical department.

"Fine, then." Ichigo frowned. "Hoko was being a total asshole again."

"Still honking about that Inoue chick?" Renji snorted. "He wouldn't stand a chance… I mean, seriously. Look at him. He's butt-ugly."

"Renji." Ichigo snorted. "That's not the point." Rolling his eyes, he glared at his male companion. "Think about it… over the past month, every guy in this place has been acting like the world is out to get them. More of them are looking at the girls, more of them are picking fights, and so on. We fight on a regular basis. We don't fight every day." He frowned, his brow furrowing. "I think that something's up."

"Maybe they're getting stir-crazy. And hormonal. Come on, Kurosaki, it's not like we're not men. We're going to be men." Renji slightly smirked. "I mean, you totally look at Inoue like she's a piece of meat, too. Or at least you look at _someone_ at the other lunch table." He frowned. "Who is it?"

"You sound like a gossiping teenage girl. I have nothing to say." Ichigo groaned, rolling his eyes once more and shouldering past his roommate. "Let's just go back. Lunch is over, anyway."

* * *

><p>He awakened from the sporadic images and dreams with a small gasp escaping his throat. His eyes darting to every corner of the large glass box that was impossible to escape only made him more paranoid. A snarl escaping his lips, Hitsugaya let his thoughts drift toward a more peaceful state of mind, which solely reminded him of the first time he stepped behind the asylum walls.<p>

Growling, he noticed that his throat ached with exhaustion. He knew that he probably screamed through his nightmares and tumbling slumber. Tugging his arms, he winced and ground his teeth in frustration as he noticed his current state. He was wrapped in long white bandages, the familiar stretchy familiar sending dark messages of unwanted memories into his mind, shattering his concentration.

A straitjacket.

The white-haired man growled, his fingers aching as he struggled to break from the bonds of the suit. It practically molded into his skin, claiming his entire soul and physical form to only writhe in frustration and to vent whatever anger was inside his troubled mind. He wanted to escape so desperately. The soldiers knew how straitjackets affected inmates, yet they were more impactful with Hitsugaya. Why, they never truly understood.

The walls surrounding the glass box were dark in color, far different in shades compared to the white walls of the sanitarium. Metal bolts, marks belonging to animalistic scratches from past inmates, and sharp torches lighting the room made it appear like a typical dungeon. Scrunching his nose in distaste, the dangerous inmate let a deep growl slip past his lips. He was not able to run free inside of the box, nor was he able to voice his opinion and vent on the other guards. There were no soldiers… he was alone.

_Bastards. _How dare they?

His eyes, much darker in color with a strict emerald streak appearing in the depths, flashed only larger once the door to the mysterious cell opened. A tall, lithe figure of a man with pale skin and silver hair appeared. A grin, so slick and sly that it rivaled the first impression of a fox lay upon his smooth lips. Yet while others would compare this stranger to the red-haired dog that inhabited the wild, a far different thought crossed Hitsugaya's psychopathic mind.

_A snake… _He hated snakes.

The slender man chuckled, his eyes closed and unsteady. It appeared as if he wanted his eyelids glued shut to appear more intimidating, though it had no affect on Hitsugaya. Only frustration and hatred for serpents lay in his mind, while his vision lay completely on the stranger that had an oddly high-pitched voice for a male.

"So, you must be the _special kid_." The silver-haired snake closed the door behind him, approaching the glass box with little interest in the rest of his surroundings. Hitsugaya snarled, the hairs along the back of his neck bristling with intensity and nervousness. He would not let this man control his psyche. "You're probably quite confused on why you are here. In a Sector Cell."

Pure frosty horror jolted through Hitsugaya's mind, his eyes widening to the size of dinner saucers as denial seeped into his heart. No. No, this man was lying. "You lie…" He breathed, his teeth grinding once more. He would let his gums bleed if he must. "You lie!"

The snake shook his head, crossing his slender yet somehow toned arms. "Why would I lie about the Sector Cell?" He chuckled. "That is just… odd, don't you think, little boy? Oh, you do look like a child, don't you? With that height and your boyish features. I bet others mistake you for a kid all the time." He was taunting him.

"_Enough_…" His words were poisonous, filled with warning. "Get _out_."

"The… observers, you could say, that are responsible for the production of Rukongai Asylum are quite happy with your progress. They have never seen such strength." Hs lips turned into a small frown as he noticed Hitsugaya's eyes were now narrowed in anger. "Ah, so you want answers now. How impatient you are, boy." His shockingly white teeth flashed once more as his mouth took on a false smile. "Let me explain."

Hitsugaya groaned, struggling to relax his muscles and to avoid the pressure of the jacket swallowing his frame in a cold embrace.

"I have a very special visitor for you. You have not seen said visitor in… well, quite a long time. I bet you have no idea who I am talking about. Though, this cell… the Sector Cell is infamous for providing the upmost protection for visitors who are accompanying inmates at a close distance. Now, before you say anything, no, you are not going to be sentenced to… _removal._"

A surge of relief swept through Hitsugaya.

"You know of the Sector Cell's origins, then?" The man smirked. "How wonderful. Then you know of the many careful deaths that have marked this place. That glass box you are sitting in has probably been sterilized hundreds of times." He released a small sound that resembled more of an excited masculine giggle than anything else. "I can see your fear."

Hitsugaya frowned, his brow furrowing. He was stubborn and angry, but he was not going to show fear to this strange person that only resembled a scaled reptile. "Tell me why I am here." The words were cold, filled with hatred and a burning background.

The silver-haired stranger placed his hands on his hips, as if registering the demand. "I already told you. Someone is here to visit you."

"You are mad." Hitsugaya smirked. "There is no one alive to accompany me. Anyone in my past has gone. They are dead."

"Oh, but that is where you are wrong." The man shook his head, as if scolding a child for stealing a single cookie from his mother's jar. "You do have a visitor. And _she _is quite excited to see you again. Yet, due to your restrictions in this sanitarium I was forced to put you in a more modified straitjacket and place you in the Sector Cell, as it is the most secure."

Hitsugaya growled. "There is no visitor. You are lying to me, you snake."

The door creaked, a thin shaft of light spilling into the dark place. Hitsugaya's eyebrow rose, suspicion creeping into his veins like a spider to its prey. He wanted to snarl once more as he noticed the curve in the male stranger's lips, appearing almost _amused _at Hitsugaya's humiliating situation.

Yet, a slight disturbance in the corner of the white-haired man's skull drove him to shock and disarray. His fingers curled into his palms beneath the thick white cloth containing him, his thoughts subduing every image of life and escape. A medium-heighted woman, barely taller than him, appeared within the room in a matter of slow, heart-wrenching seconds. Her heels, as small as they were, created a significant echo that immediately planted a stamp within Hitsugaya's memory.

She was attractive in some ways. Her face was a mixture between round and the shape of a heart, with her skin dabbled with heavy makeup around her eyes, with a light amount of blush upon her slightly childish cheeks. Her lips were painted scarlet, an image that contrasted greatly with the rest of how she looked. Her hair and eyebrows were dark in color, her eyes light and beige. Thrown across her slender yet slightly curvy frame was white cashmere sweater, a denim skirt and a simple white shirt.

"Shiro…" She said a variation of his name, so softly, so delicately that it triggered a sense of madness and pain that had dwelled in Hitsugaya's chest for so long. Angry, the man refused to look her in the eye, trying desperately to forget the heavy memories of how the woman was before. She was smiling, a false representation of how unforgiving she truly was.

The silver-haired man chuckled, loping one arm around the woman's shoulder. She sighed, her eyes closing slightly as the escort only grinned. "I'm sure you two need some time to yourselves—"

"Get her out of here."

In a second, the woman's eyes bolted wide at the subtle statement. She looked absolutely crushed, her bottom lip trembling in a pathetic attempt to change his mind. She should have known how mentally corrupted this man was, how different he was and how his soul had changed ever so drastically through his course of being treated in the asylum.

Did she have no knowledge of what she had done?

"Shiro, please… I came back to see you. To see you myself!" She approached the glass box, gazing through the surface toward the twitching figure of the insane inmate. "Please, just let me talk to you. Let me—"

"I don't want to _see you_!" He growled, his tongue flicking in distaste as the woman's name soon left his mouth in a vulnerable flourish. It was like tasting raw cranberries, to feel the sourness of its juices and letting it stick to his teeth. "_Get out, Momo_." Absolute terror dwelled in the woman's eyes, and he held no regrets. "Did you not hear me, Momo? I told you to leave."

The girl, Momo, let her fists clench. "Shiro… you don't mean that. You want to see me. It's been over two years since we've talked! You need to listen to what I have to say. I can get you out of here. I-If I pay the Warden enough money… he can let you go. This place isn't right for you anymore, Shiro."

Hitsugaya's pupils dilated. "Get out."

"But, Shiro, I—"

"_GET OUT BEFORE I KILL YOU_!" His voice boomed through the cell, shocking the terrified woman as she stepped back from the glass box. Tears trailed along the bottoms of her innocent, childish eyes. She looked far too pathetic, far too morally weak and resistant for Hitsugaya. She was not the person he remembered, the creature that once held him so dearly in a bond that he would have considered to be precious…

Though once she fled with little words to say, the Snake was still there. A chuckle emitted through the room, where the silver-haired man turned toward Hitsugaya with a knowing glance through shocking crimson eyes. "I am impressed, _Shiro_. What an incredible achievement you've done here… I'm surprised at you."

Hitsugaya snarled, his body desperately writhing in the straitjacket. He had created several holes along the sleeves and torso, yet his veins were bulging in his forehead from the rage and anger that he bombed toward the woman. She was helpless against his growing insanity. He knew that the asylum was not treating him, only containing him… they were keeping him locked away.

_She started it all… _He growled, yet, deep inside his heart, he wished he hadn't driven her away. The softer flicker of light lying deeply beneath the surface of his flesh and bone was calling back to the female named Momo. But another side of him hated the creature that tried to comfort him, tried to _convince _him…

"I suppose we can transfer you back to your cell, but I must say, these results were not expected." The man smirked and dismissed Hitsugaya with a lazy flick of his hand. "Oh, you look so angry. Maybe that wasn't a great idea."

Hitsugaya snarled. "Leave." He was desperate not to scream again. He wanted to be alone, to close his eyes and leave the voices that were threatening to overtake his mind and control him for the worse. He had yelled at the only person he had once held dearly in his life. Yet now she was nothing to him.

Was this by choice?

"Tut, tut. So antisocial." The stranger smirked. "But very well. I will abide to your wishes." Hitsugaya curled into a small ball, his teeth feeling sharp against his tongue as he tried to forget the previous hour, on when he had awoken to the odd room… to be greeted by Momo…

"Oh, and there is one more thing I should probably tell you. My name is Gin Ichimaru." Hitsugaya growled, an electric charge bolting up his spine.

He didn't care about the man. He just wanted him to _leave _and _never come back_. His lack of response only made Gin's smirk wider with sadistic satisfaction. The vale of mystery that surrounded the snitch was the only interesting aspect to him. Hitsugaya had never met a more annoying person in his life.

The white-haired prisoner failed to notice Gin's leaving. He buried his face into the cold stone floor of the glass box, his arms still bound while his knees tucked to his chest. Frustrated, he refused to believe the salty beads of unfamiliar water sliding down his cheeks. He did not want to see the puddles forming beneath him, or feel how much his bottled emotions had damaged him while his tears stained the Sector Cell's floors.

* * *

><p>Startling amber sunlight spilled through the barred windows, casting a perfect luminescent glow upon the creature's sapphire feathers. Bewilderment dwelled upon the beast's absolute beauty, its large curious obsidian eyes directed in flickering lightning-fast motions toward its admirers. It was small, dainty, even, with familiarly hollow bones and a symbol of peace and solitude. The creature hopped in several different directions, its sharp healthy beak nibbling along the golden strings of its cage.<p>

Orihime's smile widened immensely once she observed the tiny blue bird. She had never seen such exquisite beauty, on how swiftly it moved and how gently it was born and created. Its feathers were glossy and clean, as if it bathed regularly in moonlight. Several other female inmates were captured in awe of the bird and how lovely it was.

Several male inmates began to crowd as well to see what was so magnificent that the women were paying attention to other than them. Rhythms of excited giggles and grunts of surprise and nonsensical noises were all that plagued the miniature entertainment room. In the far corner, Rukia had no interest in seeing the bird.

She _hated_ birds.

She remembered how she explained to Orihime her stories as a very young girl who lived with a wealthy older brother. She smirked somewhat at the small memories, recalling the significant time a flock of angry roosters chased her out of a foreign farm while her brother spoke with the farm's owner.

When one of the soldiers arrived into the room with a pretty golden cage containing an admittedly gorgeous blue bird, Rukia was less than impressed. But the insane individuals of Rukongai Asylum had quickly flocked to see the lovely animal, to observe its miniscule mannerisms and to admire its wings. The wings were possibly the most inspirational to the inmates, to watch how the creature simply fluttered in its small compartment with little to express or change.

"Aren't you going to see the bird, Rukia?" Orihime flashed her a gentle smile, imaginative excitement sparkling in her eyes. "Please? It's so cute!"

Rukia sighed, standing up. "I already saw it. It's a tiny blue bird with pretty feathers. That's basically all it is. Why is it such a big deal to you, anyway?" Now, she was curious. Orihime's lips turned into a small frown.

"I think it's strange you don't like birds. Especially since you remind me of one…" The orange-haired girl giggled, clapping her hands. "You're just like a crow!"

Rukia blinked, grinning uncomfortably. "Orihime… how am I like a bird?"

"You are! You have huge violet eyes… sometimes dark blue. Your hair is black and thick and smooth, like crows! And crows are so smart. You seem smart." Even her manner of speech was slightly out of the ordinary. Rukia sighed; shaking her head and turning her attention to the glittering golden cage, and how nearly every inmate assigned to the one entertainment room were crowded around it.

"It's still just a bird." She frowned. "Do you know why they bought it? The soldiers, I mean."

"Once a year the guards purchase a new pet animal! They've never brought a bird here before, though… I think this one is my favorite." Orihime smiled.

_They switch off every year? Weird. _Rukia grinned. "Fine. But, really, I don't need to see the bird, okay?" She brushed down her attire, looking around until her gaze fixed on the clock. "It's almost time to return to our cells, anyway."

Though once the bell tolled and the red lights on the walls blared with the message to leave the entertainment rooms, Rukia looked over to see something strange in her sights.

The bird was fast asleep.

Before she could analyze it further, she was quickly ushered out of the room by the pestering guards. Beside her, Orihime only continued rambling on how beautiful the creature was and how its feathers were so majestic and lovely, like the colors of sapphire jewels.

Yet a sense of uneasiness twisted Rukia's stomach in knots. She wanted to wait until nightfall to see the bird and how it would fare during the dusk hours. A small part of her wanted to be sure that the creature was safe and unharmed from the dark secrets of the asylum.

* * *

><p>The soldiers paid no attention to the hopping bird and its small golden cage. The creature was restless and exhausted on different times, desperate to escape the small binds and flee to the outside world. The glass and iron that created the barred windows were as taunting as the tiny entrance to the flying animal's cage. Its beady eyes were round and unintelligent, yet pure instinct to be stretching its extra limbs against wide, open space was clearly recognized.<p>

The doors slowly creaked, a dark shape sliding into the room. The bird only chirped, releasing a song of redemption and sorrow that would have stolen any normal man's heart, or had driven an angered man to madness and impatience. A bird such as the blue one was unfamiliar with the rest of the world, and oblivious to the action of a typical human.

Teal eyes, formerly ridden with angry tears and solemn emotions, only acknowledged the fluttering creature with surprise and confusion. The shape had stopped entirely in its movements, its former intentions of simply leaving to its own cell suddenly leaving its mind. The shape… the inmate, had not expected to see a tiny bird with such a beautiful appearance trapped within the small cage.

Hitsugaya's teeth ground sharply. His straitjacket was ripped in several places, his face matted with small cuts and bruises that he sacrificed in order to rip apart the dreaded white cloth that contained him for hours. He knew the soldiers would see the Sector Cell in the morning, and would most definitely notice the massive breakage in the glass box that was once impenetrable.

The bird cocked its head to the side, acknowledging the spikes of snowy hair that were now illuminated by the moon. Its breast puffed, plumage fluttering and feathers littering the bottom of its containment. Hitsugaya's narrowed eyes, for a surprising moment, lessened in intensity as he observed the creature.

Mimicking its actions, he slowly tilted his head to the side, observing the beautiful animal with interest that he thought was once forsaken for him to have. He had shed tears, he had thrown a tantrum, he had wanted to tear Momo's throat out of her body without hesitation… but he did hesitate. He hesitated for her sake, and he hesitated for his own life. If he had moved to strike, he would have been killed. Executed.

Slowly, he stretched his fingers toward the bird, the tips twitching. The animal blinked at this in a dumb fashion, only tweeting a low song in response to this. Hitsugaya frowned, his shadow suddenly whisking away into the darkness of the asylum. The sound of crashing metal and the image of a golden cage broken on the floor was the only thing that followed his swift actions.

The bird was gone.


	5. Chapter Five: The Beginning

**Title: **_When the Jailbirds Sing_

**Rating: **_M_

**Genre: **_Horror/Suspense/Action/Drama/Romance_

**Pairing: **_Toushiro Hitsugaya x Rukia Kuchiki_

**Setting: **_Alternate Universe_

**Disclaimer: **_Disclaimed_

**Summary: **_After the death of her beloved older brother Byakuya and the destruction of her home, Rukia Kuchiki is sent to an asylum by her paranoid sister-in-law, Hisana Kuchiki. While living in the asylum as someone who thinks she does not belong, Rukia encounters the grave tales of a dangerous inmate known to kill first and talk later. This white-haired sociopath is said to be damaged beyond any source of care that the asylum can give him. As soon as they make eye contact, a dangerous game of obsession and horror is woven. "No one has lived long in my presence. And you, Kuchiki, will be no different than anyone else." Because when the jailbirds sing, the one and only gets what he wants._

* * *

><p>The Athletic Center was a rotation room contrastingly dark compared with the rest of the asylum's pastel white walls. The floors were tiled and layered over with black matted material that resisted against the strength of the male inmates and reckless brawlers that would attempt to cause arguments and quarrels within the building. Along the walls, refreshingly, were clear windows that let rays of delicate sunlight billow over the matted floors, releasing a sense of cleanliness and excitement within the current trainees. The enormous amount of weights, cardiovascular machines, brutal training discs and other equipment were the main reason the reckless residents of Rukongai Asylum were so eager for this rotation.<p>

It would be five minutes until the class would begin. Several soldiers stood attention along the entryway, prepared with tranquilizer guns and mysterious devices attached to their belts that no one knew about. Within the currently empty room was a certain individual that, for this rotation only, was free of the horrible glass box that would contain him. The intelligent yet aggressive inmate's right ankle was chained to the wall, though other than that he was free. Still, the soldiers would warn the other inmates not to approach him, particularly concerning the already cowardly women from his location.

Hitsugaya could feel the frozen stream of his veins, pumping his strength into every last iron weight he was able to detect. The steam clouding his brain, hammering against his temples and driving his focus into another dimension was distracting him from his current task. Letting his breath leave in slow, easy steps as he continued inhaling and exhaling, he was not able to control his dangerous emotional strength. He became more powerful, steadier and more controlled with his strange abilities when he was thrown into mental turmoil.

He knew this. He knew there was a significant reason the soldiers enjoyed torturing his role within the asylum, how they watched him fidget beneath powerful chains and shock collars that would have looked humiliating around the other inmates. They had taken great amusement when they discovered him with his tattered straitjacket, tousled hair, and the cuts slashed across his skin. He had broken through the Sector Cell with his greatest effort, and he knew that it would soon be thrown onto his shoulders as a deep punishment.

He didn't care.

The sound of the doors slowly opening drew his attention, though he refused to look up from his private training equipment. He personally thought it was foolish that the soldiers would let him practice his physical strength when he clearly knew he was more intelligent than each and every one of them.

They most likely knew this as well.

The pattering of many, many heavy feet thumped into the Athletic Center. The rotten stench of masculinity and testosterone flooded the area within minutes, releasing certain pheromones that caused Hitsugaya's nose to wrinkle. He could only glare with dissatisfaction at the daring inmates that would snicker or point at him behind his back. They thought he didn't know of their foolish actions. To him, he was the only person with common sense and intellect that would be able to track the actions of such imbeciles. He tried to ignore the pulsing of his black eye that was dealt to him from one of the Sector Cell guards, the bandage covering the large cut on her left cheek, and the stinging burning of torn flesh he could feel around his chained ankle. He would attempt to ignore all of these things in order to feel normal in this decrepit yet healthier atmosphere.

* * *

><p>Renji's brow furrowed into a scowl as he stood beside his orange-haired companion in the room. Every single male inmate was donned in a white athletic shirt and black sweats. It was simple and easy for the asylum to afford, despite causing complaints from several of the less satisfied individuals that were forced to live in the odd environment. Renji scratched the back of his head, glancing over the cluttered training equipment and the larger, more crazed people using them.<p>

"Oi, Ichigo… let's just wait." He was not a coward, though purposefully leaving a situation alone where he could keep all of his bones intact was a pleasant thought.

His friend frowned, the shock of orange hair topping his head brimming a golden trim underneath the rays of sunlight. He crossed his arms, observing the crowd of accompanying male inmates and their clear aggression being forced into the machines. "We can always choose a different one."

"The only other option is next to that white-haired freak, Kurosaki." Renji grunted, rolling his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere near him."

"We could train near the girls." Ichigo sighed once his pineapple-haired companion wrinkled his nose at the thought. "It's a better option than just waiting around." He shrugged his shoulders, recalling how Renji was awkward around the female inmates and would result in being berated and humiliated by the male ones once the conversation or interaction was finished. "Don't be an asshole. Come on."

"I'm not being an asshole!" Renji snarled, his fists clenching. "It's just… those doofus guards will shoot us. I don't want to be put in a Sector Cell!"

Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose. Renji was one of the most paranoid people he had ever met. "Listen, Renji, the Sector Cell is an execution chamber. It's only for the loons that _really _break the bullshit laws here…" He scowled, walking toward an unused machine separated from the male inmates. "Find a machine and start. I'm not waiting for you."

* * *

><p>"And when we're done with the Athletic Center, we can go talk to the pretty blue bird again! Aren't you excited for that Ms. Rukia?" The hyperactive nonsense coming from Orihime's mouth was the last thing that Rukia wanted to hear.<p>

The Kuchiki was more surprised on the change in schedule. Both the female and male inmates were required to meet in the same room a the same exact time. With her short several days in Rukongai Asylum, Rukia knew that this was most likely a rare occurrence.

"Every time we go to the Athletic Center we're only on a women's rotation." Rukia's lips painted a small frown. "I don't understand why we're merging schedules with the men today."

Orihime giggled. "Oh, well. It happens all the time!" She smiled widely, her expressions and voice changes slightly disturbing Rukia. The Kuchiki was more concerned with what would happen within the certain training room once they stepped into the area, and the bell would toll.

The soldiers guarding the entrance doors held a permanent scowl upon their goggled features that Rukia never understood. They seemed more like robots programmed to constantly stand attentive and watch each and every inmate with careful precision and accuracy. Their guns only posed as a threat… Rukia had only seen them use the guns once in an attempt to tranquilize Hoko, a bully in the men's cell division. Even in that situation the affects were particularly mild.

The intoxicating smells of sweat, power and vented anger flooded into her nose. She wanted to cough at the strange combination of scents, the vulgarity making her teeth clench as she glanced around the large room. It was the same room, yet she knew that she and the other women would have to squeeze in order to find machines to work with.

Only Rukia and two other women used the machines. The others pretended to stretch and only babbled constant gossip and nonsense to each other in a language Rukia knew she would never understand.

Yet once the intrusion of the women arrived, the men's attention was quickly averted to them. The hair on the back of Rukia's neck lifted, as if a sign of warning and intimidation, at the aggressive looks the men were casting over the females. Orihime and several other oblivious ones failed to notice, though the observant mind that blessed Rukia was able to see the pure confusion and curiosity within each and every gaze.

She recognized a certain gaze of smooth brown followed by a head of orange hair focusing completely on his own machine. Rukia was slightly glad to see something familiar among the mass of muscles and brutality. Hopefully Ichigo would not take notice of her and continue working on his own strength in his own little space. Wherever Renji was, she didn't particularly care. He was much more reckless and careless than Ichigo based on the conversations she had with them.

Rukia's eyes widened, noticing her distraction had cost her more than half of the available machines that were separated from the men. Apparently due to the lack of space even the laziest of female inmates decided it was better to have a machine than to wander into the depths of the masculine crowd to find a stretching mat.

Rukia could feel her palms sweat from nervousness, yet her defiance was not going to be clouded by her feminine weaknesses. She glared hard into the first man she saw, on how he seemed confused on her presence and why she wasn't walking to a nearby machine. All of them seemed to be taken…

"You there! Find a machine and start!"

Rukia jumped, glaring toward the frustrated soldiers on the other side of the room. They were watching her waste her time in the Athletic Center and she knew she was as well. But currently, she had no real choice.

"Move! Now!" One of the armed men readied their guns, making Rukia's eyes pop. The other inmates ignored this outcome, yet her instincts drove her to protect herself as she ran into the crowd of men like a lost child.

Struggling to keep herself calm, she lifted her gaze and surveyed her surroundings. Ichigo and Renji were separated into the large crowd, and Rukia could have sworn she felt something pierce into her back, like several pairs of eyes watching her every movement. She ignored them as best she could, letting her attention wander to find any machine necessary that was available to her.

A small smile captured her lips as she saw one of the iron exercise trinkets at the other end of the room, separated a good distance from the others. She could easily access the machine without anyone else telling her otherwise.

_But why is it so far away from everyone else? _She shrugged, walking to the machine and sitting on the stool. She frowned once she noticed the strange strings of chains and metal clasps that were attached to the walls, forming a barricade around anyone's ankles or wrists to keep them from moving from the object. Rukia craned her neck, looking around the straight line of machines that were separated from the other large crowds. The same chains were molded into each training set, and suddenly realization dawned on Rukia.

"What are you doing on _my _equipment?" The youthful, baritone voice of a man Rukia had little interest to contact at this hour distracted her. Flustered, the black-haired woman gazed into the frustrated, narrowed teal eyes of Toushiro Hitsugaya. His ankle was chained to the wall, explaining his semi-free form of movement that seemed satisfactory to him. Rukia noticed that he was dressed in the same attire as the other male inmates; a simple white shirt and black sweats. Holding her breath, she could feel the blood rush to her cheeks as she slowly removed herself from the machine.

"Um…" She shook her head, inwardly rolling her eyes at her momentary shyness. "There were no other machines and I saw this one. So I started to use it. I had no idea that it was yours."

Hitsugaya's eyes, for a brief moment, widened with confusion. "You did not think these were mine? Did you not see the distance between these machines and the others?" He scowled, flicking his head toward the rest of the training sets and the vigorous work the male inmates were putting into them. "You must be ignorant."

Rukia was more shocked by the fact he was talking to her as if they were having a normal conversation over a lunch break. He was far less angry; far less stressed, and seemed somewhat content. Yet Rukia's gaze immediately shifted to the thick metal brace around his ankle.

Rukia's brow furrowed. "Am I not supposed to use these, or what?" She sighed. "Listen, I don't have any other option. All of the other machines are taken. The soldiers will shoot me if I don't use one soon…"

She trailed off; her distraction leading to the obvious cuts and bruises along the man's body, the bandage on his cheek and the startling black eye that was quickly beginning to heal. She could see the traces of the purple lines and where he was hurt, though both of his eyes were open and clearly emitting frustration. Frowning, Rukia let her confusion slip into words.

"What happened to you?" She blinked as the man only glared in response. "Never mind. I guess it's none of my business—"

"Eh, get away from that freak! He'll bite you and poison you and suck your insides out at night!" The mocking tone from one of the male inmates shocked Rukia. She looked at the group of laughing men in utter disbelief, and her blood froze once she could see the pure anger and rage seeping into Hitsugaya's eyes.

His pupils dilated, his fists clenched.

She needed to do something before a massacre would take place. She was not gullible enough for the rumors of Hitsugaya to drive her conscience, but she also knew that he was most likely a powerful person and would probably cause a large brawl in the place. If there was _anything _legendary about this troubled man it was his temper…

"Go soak your head, bastard, and die in hell."

An awkward silence settled. The man stared with wide eyes toward Rukia, whose purple gaze was livid with anger and inward fear of her statement. She knew that this brute of a man could snap her like a twig, but her statement was enough to shut his, and my others', mouths.

"You… you're _defending_ that _freak_? What the hell is wrong with you?" The same man spluttered, rolling his eyes and pedaling once more on his bicycle machine. "Whatever. Crazy chick."

The atmosphere in the room slowly returned to normal, and the tense and prepared shoulders of the guards had lessened.

However, once she turned and flashed Hitsugaya a reassuring smile, all she received in return was an ungrateful scowl. His arms were crossed; his eyes slowly scanning the room before turning toward his machine with little interest of her inquiringly brave words. Rukia frowned at this, slowly reaching behind her head and scratching her neck.

"May I use one of your machines?"

He didn't respond; though Rukia could see his head slowly dip as his answer. Smirking at his stubborn, almost childish mannerisms, Rukia gradually sat upon the machine and began her routine.

* * *

><p>He was watching her.<p>

He should have killed her when he had the chance. The moment he hadn't the opportunity had slipped from his hands and he would never be able to communicate with the sweet ridding of a nuisance. The strange black-haired woman was something that he was not familiar with. She spoke in a type of language that he was not ready for, and he certainly had no particular idea on why he had even spoken to her in the Athletic Center. He was broiling with turmoil the minute the rotation had began, though the moment the woman intruded upon his territory was something the would soon never forget.

She was flustered. Her cheeks had turned pink, her dark, bluish violet eyes wide with disarray and confusion. She was sitting on one of his personal machines, her hands grasping the handlebars and her legs positioned around the stool. She was usually such an aggressive person; he never would have considered her a shy individual by any means.

When he was able to vent his emotions through athleticism, he was far calmer and less temperamental. He knew that his mind ran far more smoothly when he cooperated with a machine of any sort, which made it far more pleasant with the security guards as they granted him the closest amount of freedom he would ever receive. But his time was quickly interrupted by the small, purple-eyed woman with features and personality that clashed so desperately with only one other person in his life…

Snarling, he let his teeth grind together, staring down at the white plate set before him. His ankles and wrists were now, once again, bound in chains, the threads of metal forming a temporary brace that painfully braised his skin. It was like letting his limbs travel through a coiled form of fire.

Hunger burned so desperately in his stomach, his eyes fixated on the unusual placing of strips of meat that the soldiers carelessly slapped onto his plate. He grimaced, feeling his teeth clench and his mouth water at seeing the hard food. He lifted his gaze, his throat grumbling in annoyance as he noticed the crazed inmates feasting on their own strips of meat. He could see how the lack of care affected their greedy countenances, how they despised beings such as him who watched in the corner with a hungry appetite and little to eat. He was beginning to lose his patience with the soldiers that were required to feed him… his brow rose, recognizing the familiarity of the situation, only several days before when he was left alone to fend for himself. The strange woman had come to him, talking to him, her words leaving tender imprints on his mind…

He shook his head. She was a wench, a stupid girl and nothing more.

But she drove him insane with curiosity. She was different… he could sense it, yet more than anything he regretted refusing to kill her. If he had stolen her soul she wouldn't be alive to make his existence more miserable and subtle than it already was. His nose wrinkling at the thought, he closed his eyes to rid the frustration piling in his thoughts and spewing violent images into his brain.

"_NO_! SHE'S GONE! RULU IS GONE!" The terrified feminine echo drove many of the inmates into shock, several of them standing in frustration and angst at hearing such news. Hitsugaya's brow only furrowed once more, trying to ignore them.

"No! Not Rulu!"

"Not our bird!"

The chorus only continued to grow, women panicking and bursting into tears at the loss of their apparent mascot. Far on the other side of the table, Rukia watched the scenario with a risen eyebrow and a ravioli half-chewed in her mouth. Swallowing the stale food, she looked toward Chizuru, whose eyes were fixed on the sobbing and mood-swinging Orihime. "Rulu?"

"It's what we named our new pet bird." Chizuru was clearly not interested, crossing her arms and blowing a single strand of pink hair out of her eyes. She was a spoilt brat, yet Rukia was not going to argue with her.

"The bird? The blue one?" Rukia frowned. "It's gone?" She slightly chuckled at the thought. _That's not surprising. It probably escaped. _She observed her surroundings, particularly the confused men and the horrified female cellmates that were desperate to bring back the blue animal that they crowded for hours just the other day.

Chizuru scowled. "How dare you act so careless? My Orihime is hurt inside! She is crying, can't you see?" She gestured to the crying orange-haired woman. "She's in need of attention and all you pathetic lot can't comfort her! It's alright Orihime, I've got you…"

Rukia sighed, rubbing her temples.

One of the soldiers turned his attention to Orihime, his orange goggles flashing with opportunity. Rukia froze as the armored man approached the Inoue woman, grabbing the ending strands of her long hair and pulling her roughly from the table. Chizuru blinked in utter surprise as this occurred, the other crying inmates far too busy with their own personal quarrels to notice.

Orihime's childish eyes blinked at being startled so quickly, her entire figure loosening as the man's grip tightened around her hair, reaching toward her scalp and yanking as roughly as he could. He muttered something into a communicator attached to his vest, the other soldiers nodding and proceeding toward the other crying women. Orihime kicked and screamed as he pulled out a mechanical device brimming with electric energy.

Rukia snarled, pushing herself from the table and leaping onto the man's back, his attention quickly diverting to her. She tried to kick and punch him in the best areas she could find, her entire world frozen over as the armored guard rapidly threw her to the ground. The sickening rhythm of lightly cracked bones emitted through the area, some women stopping in their ridiculous crying to see the event. Rukia suppressed a whimper as the man roughly punched her across the jaw.

"Rebel detected. Number tag reads _356890_." The guard murmured these words in an almost monotone voice, sending chills along Rukia's spine. Gasping, she felt his hands grip her hips and push her up. He had his right arm constraining her, holding the kicking and screaming girl in his embrace quite easily.

Orihime looked up, dumbfounded. "R-Rukia—"

"_Silence_! All of you who are upset due to the bird's disappearance will be quarantined for the rest of the evening!" The other soldiers snarled, startling the women and forcing them to remain quiet. "Good."

Hitsugaya's eyes had widened considerably, a pulse of surprise immediately resting in his mind. He was not prepared for the alarm call and the sudden swarm of soldiers grabbing at and publicly humiliating the women. He snarled in an animalistic fashion, his wrists tugging at his strong bonds as he noticed a soldier come to his position.

"Put her in the Sector Cell with this one. That'll teach her."

Hitsugaya growled, far too angry to even listen to the man's words.

* * *

><p>She had heard of the rumors, of the dark tales and horrible memories that surrounded the Sector Cell. The bloodstained walls, the supposed torture weapons displayed along the floors and sides, the superstitious echo of screams from past victims and executed souls… they lingered in her mind as she was being dragged to the one area that she hoped she would never face.<p>

Rukia scowled. She had protected Orihime, an innocent woman with the mindset of a child who had no recollection of mature emotions or feelings. The loss of the blue bird had driven her to tears… and the soldiers were clearly not happy with the emotional war that occurred in the lunchroom. Rukia's clothes were torn, her jaw bruised from the rough punch the soldier had inflicted upon her, and she could feel the cuts from his sharp armor burning into her flesh. Simply, she felt like a lamb delivered to slaughter.

Though what she had done was not on par with a fate of execution. The thought that if she had gone any further, she would have been killed.

"Hope you rot, filthy scum." The first guard snarled, opening the heavy iron door to the Sector Cell. Rukia's eyes widened at the dark room that was like black sulfur to the white snow of the rest of the asylum, scrubbed bloodstains strewn along the floors and walls…

Yet one aspect surprised her.

Sitting within a large, newly repaired glass box with thicker iron implants than before, was the white-haired monster. His eyes were large, his teeth grinding heavily as he struggled to escape the enhanced leather bindings of a different brand of straitjacket. He was sitting against the wall, struggling to tear apart the leather bindings with his own teeth. Rukia had heard rumors that he escaped his previous containment within the Sector Cell: ripping apart his own straitjacket, breaking the glass box, tearing away the iron door… the list was endless.

Some part of her stomach flipped. She silently wished she hadn't interfered with the soldiers when they were harassing Orihime, yet another small part of her wanted her to believe that she would get out of this situation alive.

"Here you go, you monstrous bastard," the second soldier murmured. Without a care, he pulled open the iron door and flung Rukia inside, the woman gasping and nearly falling onto her face. She turned to glare sharply at the soldier as he backed away toward the entry door. "Fresh meat, and a girl, too. Show her whose boss."

A snicker left the soldiers' mouths as they locked the door behind them.

Rukia blinked, biting her lip. She kept her gaze fixated on the iron door, wanting to never look behind her toward the currently temperamental and infuriated white-haired beast that everyone so desperately feared.

Swallowing, she turned to him, whispering. "I… I don't deserve to be here." She couldn't think of anything to say.

The man snarled, pulling up from his gnawing. His teal eyes, as hypnotic and beautiful as they were, were more identical to shards of greenish glass than pools of emotion. He was a true portrait, flat on the surface yet curious to witness. Rukia still found herself fascinated by him and, despite his violent stature, felt a sense of comfort overcome her body.

"Does it look I care?" The words were simple, breathy, as he had used most of his energy to escape the bindings of his jacket. He released another growl, raising one eyebrow as if pondering why she was there. "… You are one… of few people, that have not died in my presence."

Rukia's heart skipped a beat.

He frowned, closing his eyes. "Though… that is not surprising." What was wrong with him? Rukia could hear the dramatic changes in voice and tone in only a matter of seconds. He had switched from wild animal to angry bully to pondering killer in such a short amount of time. "Get this off of me."

Rukia frowned at the request. "I don't have anything to break you out—"

"Look, foolish girl. There is a chain attached to the leather. Unbind it with your fingers." He growled, his pupils dilating with impatience, his blood already boiling. "Do it now."

Rukia sighed, mentally rolling her eyes. He gave demands like a child would. Scrambling over to him, she fixed her gaze on the strange leather jacket that bound him like a tight cocoon. Being so close to the man sent shivers down her spine, as if a cloud of cold encircled his figure like an unwanted curse.

"I have one question for you, Hitsugaya." Rukia fought down her nerves as best she could, trying to think of another subject matter that would distract her from what she was doing. She was conversing with a possible murderer and killer and was trying to be as calm as any normal person would. Even though he scoffed in annoyance she asked him anyway. "Why exactly are you here?"

The room temperature dropped.

A snarl as ice-cold as the Arctic escaped his pursed lips. "_That_… is none of your business."

Rukia sighed. "Right." She watched as the bonds began to loosen. "… I'm only here because my sister forced me." Hitsugaya huffed, looking away from her and staring grumpily at the opposite wall. Rukia's eyes softened as memories began to gather. "I… have no therapeutic or sanitarium records. I'm only here because of my sister's wealth and the fact that my brother is dead."

She grinned as she white-haired man half-turned his head, still not meeting her gaze yet he seemed mildly interested. "It is impossible to be here without reason."

"And how do you know that?" Rukia frowned. "The only really insane person I've seen here is Orihime Inoue… and that's just image and emotional problems. Some others are violent but I don't see anything particularly strange or crazy about any of them. This asylum is cheap and rundown… so why is it so unbelievable that my adopted sister would send me here just to get rid of me?"

The man's brow furrowed at the question. He had not noticed the dropping of the leather jacket, how it was now splayed around them like a halo. His thoughts were drifting, thinking of something else. "I suppose it is not…" He scowled. "Answer this, then. If you are truly in that situation, then why is the asylum keeping you here?"

"Hisana is probably just paying them." Rukia's eyes darkened, her fists clenching. "She always seemed suspicious and fake to me… after my brother's death six months ago, it hasn't been the same. I got into an argument with her and she sent me here."

She was telling him her practical life story, and she knew she couldn't contain it at this breaking point. She was not a very emotional person but her memories were precious to her, especially when concerning Byakuya.

Hitsugaya's brow furrowed. He was not familiar with the concept of a woman's emotions or stories, yet by listening to a rather unusual girl that seemed to change many things about the asylum… stoically, and passively, he could feel his mind making an exception for her.

"Hmph." He growled, jerking up while standing with his fists clenched. "No matter. If you expect for me to hold pity for you than you are quite inexperienced." He snarled, his brow furrowing once more. "Leave me alone."

Rukia scowled, her temper rising. "Listen, I've been trying to ignore those idiotic rumors about you being a monster! Everyone talks about you like you're some sort of plague that kills everyone that passes through and shows no mercy!" She shook her head, frustrated. "You're one confusing person… but really, I only wanted to help."

"Don't lie." He hated liars. "No one wants to help a being such as myself."

"If I was lying, would I have agreed to untie you?"

The question lay thick in the air, a grunt of annoyance and displeasure leaving Hitsugaya's throat. Snorting, he turned to face her. His cold teal eyes bore into hers, the violet crystals seeming to shimmer with defiance and accomplishment. Grinding his teeth, he could not decide on how much he hated… or loved, these eyes.

"Just give me a chance." Rukia frowned. "If you don't want to talk, I don't care. But I need to talk and hopefully you will listen."

Hitsugaya's brow furrowed once more, yet he did not protest. He knew that this was the critical starting point of a strange companionship.


	6. Chapter Six: The Woman

**Title: **_When the Jailbirds Sing_

**Rating: **_M_

**Genre: **_Horror/Suspense/Action/Drama/Romance_

**Pairing: **_Toushiro Hitsugaya x Rukia Kuchiki_

**Setting: **_Alternate Universe_

**Disclaimer: **_Disclaimed_

**Summary: **_After the death of her beloved older brother Byakuya and the destruction of her home, Rukia Kuchiki is sent to an asylum by her paranoid sister-in-law, Hisana Kuchiki. While living in the asylum as someone who thinks she does not belong, Rukia encounters the grave tales of a dangerous inmate known to kill first and talk later. This white-haired sociopath is said to be damaged beyond any source of care that the asylum can give him. As soon as they make eye contact, a dangerous game of obsession and horror is woven. "No one has lived long in my presence. And you, Kuchiki, will be no different than anyone else." Because when the jailbirds sing, the one and only gets what he wants._

* * *

><p><em>The sickening crunch of bones rippled beneath his fingers, tangled masses of blonde hair tossed into several directions. The walls, once pastel white with little portraits to decorate their bland surfaces, were now caked in a familiar substance the color of a nightmarish crimson. The rebounding emotions of shock, horror and disbelief molded into one mesh that divided within the small area, acting like an endless echo. <em>

_Cold, frosty eyes the shade of warm chocolate blinked in utter surprise. Her dainty mouth clamped shut, her fingers shaking, her blankets and clothes thrown around her currently bare body with nothing else to cover her. She was a true liar: acting perfectly according to her ridiculously secretive script. She had played the part perfectly. She had pretended to show such gentle emotions… known as iniquity, attachment… love._

_Reality slowly began to surface, entrapping the miniature world of horror and dysfunction in a small invisible bubble. The paralyzed woman could only gape at the scene before her, grasping her face and burying her eyes into her hands to avoid the gruesome imagery. She had never seen such violence; she was now tainted with another form of filth. _

_A face as dangerous yet beautiful as an angry god was now swathed in blood. The red streaks painted the walls and floors, stretching through the halls and riddling the very atmosphere with a terrible stench. The scent was unforgettable, lingering with the previous life of another human being. Yet to this animal of a mortal, the corpse splayed helplessly on the dark rug before him was nothing but a trinket of madness and remorse._

_His eyes, as hypnotic and stoic as they were, were brimming with an icy tone that forbade emotional reading or entry. The woman did not want to meet such eyes with her own, the fear and depth of her heart plummeting like an anvil. _

_The jagged spikes of the murderer's white hair only seemed to match the pale shade of the walls, floors, and the satin sheets that adorned his former lover's bed. She was once in his arms, gifted with a sense of belonging and heart… a presence of desire and heartfelt emotion that never would have been possible in any other situation. If she had not done the unthinkable… if she had not betrayed him, it would have never happened. _

"_You… you monster…" The woman was desperate, choking on her own sobs and trying to rub the sacred tears from her eyes. She was similar to a crushed and broken Barbie doll; a perfected image shattered before one's very eyes. "Y-You killed him! You're a murderer! A killer!" Her voice raised to a hysterically high pitch, the man before her still staring into the corpse's lifeless eyes. _

_He was strong. Young. He was an interesting and troubled man that happened to be acquainted with a much-desired and sought-after beauty of a woman. She was considered the great chain to their relationship, the link that bound them together, yet in a sick twist of fate it happened to be her secret lover's neck that would suffer his blow. He was powerful. He was angry._

_He was livid._

_The animal had snapped. He had waited until the precious moment was ready, where he would be able to claim the rights, soul, and heart of a precious woman that deemed far more to him than he would have ever pictured possible. Yet she was as merciless as he… possibly worse. She was a wicked creature, a nymph. She bore the mask of a lovely flower, yet underneath her heart prickled with deadly thorns. _

_He was still entranced, marveled by the large display of torn flesh, broken bone and the alluring color red. He did not want to see the disrupted, hideously crooked face of his former lover. Her name meant nothing to him now. She had tossed his name aside as if it was a rag doll, watching as the stitches and cotton would snare on impact. His teeth ground, his eyes wide and predatory with his fingernails causing cuts against his palms while he clenched his fists. _

_The doors opened. The lights and alarms blared. He was dragged; no… he was pulled, chained, torn, smeared, held captive like a hungry and dangerous animal. If he were not stopped he would have killed her too. _

_To him, she deserved it. _

* * *

><p>"That is… quite an interesting story you have there, Ms. Hinamori." The voice was soothing and gentle, holding a unique hypnotic undertone that would have never been understood outside of his industry walls. The charismatic smile plastered across his brawn and masculine features would have driven any independent woman into swoons and sighs. He had a somewhat gentle appearance, with pale skin and a head of steady brunette hair.<p>

Yet Momo was an emotional wreck. Her clothes were as bright pink and stale as the flushed color of her cheeks. She was once quite healthy-looking; with a vibrant smile displaying strikingly white teeth and a pair of rosy lips. Yet they had vanished since the events had taken a dramatic course through her lifetime. She was worn and tired… concealed behind a layer of makeup.

"You expect me to believe that you had a personal relationship with our… special, subject?" The man smirked, tapping a pencil against his mahogany desk. The woman straightened, her shoulders rolling back as she struggled to control herself. She threw another crumpled tissue into the trash bin beside her, whimpering. The man nodded, stroking his chin in thought. "And you would like to see him again?"

"As soon as possible." Her voice was so stricken and terrified. "Please, Sir. I have made many mistakes. Even if he… even if he murdered a man, he did it to protect me. He wanted to save me from the horrors of what could have happened! I realize that now. I realize that he only wanted to protect me." For a moment, her pretty eyes sparkled in remembrance of her healthy life. "Please… please let me see him."

The man sighed, chuckling in amusement. "I have never heard of such a story and such a request all gathered into one. You, Ms. Hinamori, are an interesting person."

He pondered, his glasses reflecting the rays of the sun pouring through his office window. Unlike the rest of his business corporation, his walls and floors were a dark wooden color, polished and dusted. It appeared almost modern in expert contrast to everything else around him. Momo shuffled in her seat, the green leather sticking to the sweat of her legs.

"Please." She was going to beg.

_She is weak. This is good. _The man wove his fingers together, his thoughts reflecting and burrowing into the woman's crumbling mind like a dagger. "Ms. Hinamori. You claim that you… had a relationship with this _monstrosity_. Is that correct?"

Momo nodded. "Yes. Yes, I was telling the truth. He only wanted to protect me—"

"Ah, ah. I only wanted you to answer my question. No further comments." He grinned once she snapped her mouth shut, dipping her head in response. "Good. Now, the records surrounding his therapy and criminal background are surprisingly shallow. Some are even empty… emptier than the other inmates." He shrugged, his shoulders collecting muscle and strength that grabbed the woman's attention. "Tell me if this is true, Ms. Hinamori. You called the police immediately after he killed your lover."

Momo sniffed, biting her lip. "Yes."

"And you think he killed your lover because he was… concerned, for you?" He was generally amused at the idea. She was truly once a love-struck and attractive young lady. Now she seemed to be even less of a shadow of her former self.

The brown-haired woman felt her hands clench, grasping the silk of her skirt. "Yes. I do believe that he was rightfully concerned for me and wanted to help me. He wanted to save me, Sir. He wanted to protect me. I should have told him about my affair and… and I knew that he wasn't the most emotional and open person. But he loved me. He still _loves _me. I know he does and I know that the reason he did what he did, was because he wanted to protect me."

_Interesting. _The man shook his head. "And you want to see this dreadful creature again. After he drove you away last time, with not a lick in your conversation, you want to try again." It was not a question. He was only somewhat perplexed by the fact that she was stubborn enough to keep trying until she got what she wanted. She was probably a very exhausting woman in regular conversation.

Momo's brow furrowed. "Sir, I keep giving you the same answer. Yes, I want to see him again. I came here _because _I was hoping that you would be able to do that. I want to make sure that… that he's healthy. That he doesn't miss me."

"I will see what I can do." The man murmured something else. "You may go. Gin, show her out."

Momo nodded, her lips turning into a grateful smile as the door soon closed behind her. The silver-haired man turned to his employer with a wicked grin, his shadowed eyes holding an untold secret.

"He hates her. Shiro would rip her to pieces if he saw her again, Sir." He chuckled slightly, as if responding to a mild joke. Once he turned to observe his master's features, his lips somewhat dropped and his expression blanked. "Now, now, Sir… I don't know if that's necessary."

"You know very well that it is necessary." The sadistic manager chuckled, his tone carrying an underlying sense of sadism that was clearly unavoidable. "She wants to see him. So she will. I will not deny a client her wishes."

"Ah… you are a manipulative man, Master Aizen."

The brunette only shrugged, removing a small cigarette from a glass box on the corner of his desk. He pressed his lips to the item, lighting the other end and soon puffing small plumes of smoke through his mouth.

"Not manipulative, Gin. Just intelligent."

* * *

><p>"This game is pathetic!"<p>

The black-and-white, square-patterned game board flew across the Sector Cell. The object immediately crumbled on impact, snapped into two jagged triangles that lay on the cold stone ground like forgotten foot splinters. Narrowing her eyes, Rukia stared ahead of her toward the temperamental and difficult white-haired inmate.

"I told you it was hard." She sighed, crossing her arms.

"Hmph. Then choose a different piece of entertainment. Your _board games _are terrible… especially _chess_." He sneered the name of the activity as if it was a leech to his gold. He was craned his neck, glaring toward the steel door and the perplexed guards watching them interact.

Hitsugaya was constantly puzzled that the strange black-haired girl remained in the Sector Cell alongside him, as if the soldiers were waiting for something fascinating to happen. The tension had noticeably loosened between the two individuals, as if a heavy black cloud had released every last raindrop.

Rukia watched as the fury began to build in the man's cold teal eyes. He was an interesting person… and quite frightening. On several occasions she had found herself at his mercy, with her neck grappled in his surprisingly strong hands, and his pupils dilated to a majestic form that rivaled the shock and instability of a wild dog. He was a complicated mood-swinging machine, constantly shifting personalities and mannerisms throughout the course of the mornings and evenings.

Yet… she suspected it was due to the fact that she was annoying him. She mostly talked and he listened, pretending to listen with his eyes staring into another world that she would never be able to see. Rukia would, however, never be free of the strange and devastatingly painful aura of hatred emitting from the criminal. He practically oozed angst and temper, threatening to boil and simultaneously freeze once it reached a critical point.

Slowly, she pulled a thin strand of hair behind her ear, and closed her eyes. She needed to wait until the supposed monster would settle and let the steam leave his system. She did not want to suffer a roar of soldiers and the beating of an angry animal-like mortal.

"… You spoke of your sister." Rukia blinked, realizing that Hitsugaya was still staring straight ahead, his eyes bruised from sleepless nights and his teeth grinding from inner frustrations that she would never know about. "You say she is wicked." He snorted, closing his eyes, as if pondering a deep subject while exhaling sharply through his nose. "Tell me why."

Rukia scratched her temple, yet as soon as the image of Hisana flashed through her mind, a feeling of resentment and ferocity bolted through her stomach and grasped it like an icy claw. She tugged small strands of her hair as she spoke. "She was the exact image of what everyone wanted from a Kuchiki wife."

Hitsugaya turned to her, his gaze holding an almost childish sense of puzzlement. He demanded for answers without even saying a word to her. Rukia rolled her eyes and turned her attention to her twitching thumbs.

"My brother, Byakuya, was famous. He owned the Kuchiki Corporation. It manufactured dozens of appliance factories. He was a very gifted businessman and received praise everywhere he went. At least, that's how I remember it." Her purple eyes, for a brief second, darkened. "I used to admire Hisana. Strangely, she looked very similar to me: black hair, purple-blue eyes, pale skin, and etcetera. She was just… _that _person. The one that everyone wanted to meet in the business meetings. She was the flower everyone wanted to pick." Rukia hesitated, searching for the right words. "But she was selfish and greedy. After my brother's death she became an absolute witch. She abused her title after inheriting my brother's fortune and business."

Hitsugaya growled, his tone low and bitter. "It surprises me that you have not taken action with this."

Rukia groaned. "I have nothing to prove with this goddamn asylum." She growled and punched the wall beside her, running her hands through her scalp. "I get so damn irritated when I keep realizing that there's no way for me to leave! I know that somehow Hisana is keeping me here—"

"Subjects Rukia Kuchiki. It is now time for your scheduled rotation." The monotone voice of the newest armed guard snapped Rukia's attention. She glanced briefly between the new set of soldiers and the unhappy expression on Hitsugaya's face. His teeth were clenching once more, his entire figure appearing to be shaking.

"… Fine." She snorted and stood, glancing toward the white-haired man. "Doesn't he go to these rotations?"

The guard dipped his head. "No."

Hitsugaya was only allowed to watch as the odd girl disappeared behind the steel doors. He was alone once more, trapped within the large glass box that he had previously destroyed on his wild escapade. The enhancements were difficult to scope, his steady eyes drinking every tiny detail of the repaired and replenished Sector Cell. What was once an execution chamber was now nothing more than a monster's playground.

Yet now they had taken his one source of possible entertainment away. She was annoying, hardheaded, talkative and emotional. Yet there was an odd disturbance within her… a dark essence that felt was all too familiar. She appeared to have a strange appeal to her loud character. She was rebellious in every way, with an appearance and attitude to match the stated claims.

But why did she haunt his every thought? Was his curiosity truly this weak? Was he truly going to be this childish and thoughtless?

He barely thought to himself of the possibilities that would occur between he and the strange girl… on multiple occasions he had nearly killed her. There were instant moments of spasms and jostling memories that forced him into actions that his mind was not capable of regretting. He had almost killed her several times… he had dangled a sleek silver knife above her doll-like face, ready to shed her blood and end her life.

It disappeared the moment he saw her. He saw the picture of innocence and aggression rolled into one calamity of a person; a creature of perfected flaws built into a somehow stable environment. She was productive and annoyingly clever, constantly tricking him in her verbal puzzle games. She was a different sense of a person: a being of nonsensical wit and astounding temperament.

The soldiers marring the Sector Cell door whispered lowly to each other, their snickers evident in the thin air. Hitsugaya's ear twitched, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the changing facial expressions on the lousy guardsmen. The monster could see the mockery and disgust in their pathetic voices.

Hearing them talk made his stomach churn.

"Hmph. I'm surprised he hasn't killed the runt yet. I could have sworn he would've eaten her for breakfast. Crushed her, at least."

"I know, right? Or at least… he would have hurt her. Something. You know how animals are. Once they see the opposite gender of their kind, their hormones take over." The other man laughed at this, slapping his knee and turning his attention to the frustrated inmate trapped in the glass box. "Ya hear that, ya midget? We know you'll snap sometime. When she comes back you'll be all over her like a dog in heat."

Hitsugaya felt a low, dangerous growl rumbling in his throat. He could not control his instincts, though he denied any positive feeling of emotion for the useless girl that happened to be sharing his cell with him.

He slammed his fist against the wall, watching in annoyance as not a single crack surfaced under the impact. He wanted to strangle the two imbeciles, and the only way to do it was to escape the dreaded miniature prison.

* * *

><p>The taste of a stale beef ravioli made Renji quiver in disgust. Arching his brow, he watched as the long lines of female inmates flooded into one of several entertainment centers. Several had their heads down, their gazes scanning the blindingly white floors, as if searching for something. Since the disappearance of their precious blue bird, the nature of the women seemed far quieter and less obnoxious.<p>

"Hey, it's her!" Renji scowled, his lips pursing. He turned toward Ichigo, the orange-haired individual biting hungrily into a cheese steak sandwich. The other man glared at his friend, brown eyes skeptical and annoyed. Renji ignored the rest of their masculine company as he grabbed his friend's ear, directing his attention toward the only tiny woman in the crowd of women. "I can't believe she's alive."

Ichigo slapped his cellmate's hand away. "Of course she's alive."

"But she's been with that… thing. That monster!" Renji's teeth clenched. "Maybe he brainwashed her. I bet that's it. The guards transplanted her brain and now she's a messenger for the white-haired bastard!"

Several cellmates chuckled at this, biting into their food and observing the cloud of chattering girls with little interest in the odd redhead. Renji scowled once more, crossing his arms and setting them on the polished gray table.

"You're paranoid."

"You always say that!" A hard smack forced Renji's chin to slam into the table, pain blasting through his skin and enlivening his senses. Grappling his fists, he turned over his shoulder to swing his hands at the nearest target, yet he blanked as soon as he prepared himself.

Rukia's eyes were narrowed, her hand balled into a surprisingly strong yet small fist. She slowly inhaled and exhaled, folding her arms across her chest. "I'm not crazy, and I'm clearly not dead. You need to learn to speak _quietly_, you baboon." Her blunt tone caused Renji's skin to bristle. Ichigo burst into laughter, the male cellmates following suit with echoes and chuckles of amusement. The black-haired Kuchiki pursed her lips, a vein popping at the corner of her forehead.

"Kuchiki. There will be no quarreling in this room." The chilling, belittling voice froze the small area. Rukia, clearly irritated, swung her gaze over her shoulder, expecting to see the smug face of another male cellmate.

Though confusion immediately entered her thoughts as she observed the appearance of the potentially serpentine man. He was casually dressed; articles of clothing that she would have never expected on another man in Rukongai Asylum. Arching her eyebrow, Rukia steadied herself against the table, as if supporting her weight. She did not want to be close to this strange person… he _emitted _clouds of lies, secrets, and danger.

"It's Gin!" The squeaky voice of a random female cellmate snapped Rukia's attention. In an instant the sound of metal against a hard surface silenced the clearing. Rukia glanced over in shock with a slack jaw, seeing that the woman who singled out the fox-like man was now lying unconscious. A soldier stood above her unconscious frame, the butt of his tranquilizer gun holding a significant dent.

"I came here to visit. Such interesting people you all happen to be. Not nearly as insane as I remember… hmmm… could it be that this oh so _horrible _asylum is working for you?" His voice evaporated into slick chuckles and whispers, his closed eyes holding an essence of fear behind them. Rukia could see through his shut lids, as if observing the gaze of a hungry viper ready to devour a rodent.

Her teeth shook.

"It is a great honor to finally meet you, Ms. Kuchiki." Gin slowly tilted his head to the side, approaching the paralyzed woman with a risen hand. Frozen, Rukia could only watch in absolute fear and shock as the fox-man's ice-cold fingers traveled through her hair, running along her scalp. It was like an invisible spell was cast, forcing the others to witness such a strange interaction between two strangers. Rukia's pupils had dilated beyond measure, her skin quivering with uneasiness and rising with goose bumps.

_What is he doing? _She was horrified. This sense of touch was never applied to her body before. The way his fingers were spread, caressing her hair and admiring the thick, raven-colored texture made her heart leap and somersault in disgust. Snapping to her senses, she ripped away from his grasp and sunk her teeth into his wrist.

A cry of shock emitted through the group, leaving the throat of a terrified Orihime. She was not ready to watch Rukia be beaten for the sake of protecting herself.

Gin only smirked. He had raised his hand to stop the soldier's guns from shooting a single dart. He managed to release a small cackle, barely heard yet stronger and more forceful than a smaller chuckle. The sight of the troubled and disturbed girl biting ferociously into his wrist only made him grin.

"It is interesting, Kuchiki. Only one other inmate has bitten me in a manner of defense before." Rukia narrowed her eyes, releasing from the stranger and stepping back toward the opposite wall. Her hair, now rough in several areas and appearing tangled from her stress, marred the image of a clearly angry young girl.

Ichigo snorted. "What the hell are you doing here anyway, Ichimaru?" He scoffed the name, watching as the serpent frowned in response. His lips seemed to struggle to perform the different expression, his focus directed toward other objectives. "You prance in here out of nowhere and act like you run the place. Besides, we all know you're not in charge."

Renji squeaked. "Ichigo, are you crazy?"

"No." The carrot-top smirked in a coy fashion, ignoring the open mouths and expressions of surprise. "It's about time someone said something. Everyone's so terrified of this lunatic."

Gin grinned. "Well, it is good to know that rebels like you have a backbone. If it were a soldier they would have thrown you into the Sector Cell with dearest Shiro." He chuckled grimly, turning his unseen gaze toward Rukia.

She growled, her fists balled and ready to strike. Her arms were tense in a defensive position, as if already calculating where she wanted to punch this freak. "Why? Why are you like this? Why are you here?" Her demands were solid and controlled. Gin had given her a sense of admiration for her determination and surprising courage, silently comparing the girl to her adopted sister.

"I came to remind you that you would remain here as long as Hisana Kuchiki continues paying the fee." Gin's grin only widened at Rukia's alarmed face. "Surely you would have expected she would not have you back so soon?" He turned away from her, raising his hand as a nonchalant wave. "Ta-ta, little Kuchiki."

Rukia's hopes vanished. She could only stare after the silver-haired fox, pondering over his words. The chilling, bone-freezing words that drove her thoughts to the worst possible conclusion. Her brother was wealthy, and his death gave Hisana the necessary amount of money to claim his business and run it however she desired. She used her wealth to send Rukia away, to manipulate a small mental institution with little records of success.

She felt foolish for letting her hate control her and cover the image of Hisana. She focused on her hatred toward her sister rather than the reality that as long as Hisana had the money in her possession, she was going to have the power to keep her there.

_Brother… do you see now, how horrible your wife is? _The irony in her tone and the bitterness of her thoughts made it a sort of scolding toward her deceased brother. Instantly, she wished she hadn't pondered of such a claim, thinking of Byakuya as a foolish individual who did not see who his wife truly was.

Yet even the most stoic and intelligent men could be blinded by love.

* * *

><p>Hitsugaya snarled, struggling to break from the intense chains binding his wrists and ankles. The metal seared marks into his flesh, branding his skin with reminders of how he was there and how he would never escape. The soldiers standing behind him were intense reminders of how impossible the situation was. The teal-eyed monster glared toward his surroundings, observing the dull colors of the closed-in walls and the bland texture of the floors beneath him. His clothes were currently looser than normal, pieces torn and shredded along his shirt and pants.<p>

Like a predator, he waited in the cold steel chair with a hardened scowl over his features. He only wanted answers. It was the only thing that he craved, to hear the horrific words of truth escape the soldiers' tightened lips as they would be forced to reveal their infinite secrets. He had never seen the runners of the asylum… it had never interested him before.

He sought a brief sense of comfort. Instantly, he was bombarded with images of a temperamental woman shorter than he, with intelligent violet-blue eyes, raven hair and brilliant ivory skin. Puzzled, he shook his head to be rid of such thoughts. She was nothing. She was simply another woman in the asylum who enjoyed talking to potentially dangerous people.

Growling, he felt his arms and legs tense up as the door slowly opened. The slender, lithe figure of a woman stepped into the cramped room. Hitsugaya's organs instantly twisted and jostled, his pupils widening and a sickening hiss escaping through his tightly grinding teeth.

"… Shiro?"

_Momo._

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry this is such a late chapter, everyone! I've been really busy with schoolwork and training for sports. Yes, this chapter is a bit shorter than the others and I do apologize for that. I don't really enjoy the quality of it but I hope that you will give me constructive criticism or general feedback. Thank you so much for the reviews! The previous chapter was the most well-received yet and I highly appreciate it everyone!<strong>

**If you have any questions or thoughts, PM me or just add them to your review. :)**

**~ Duskblood**


	7. Chapter Seven: The Perspective

**Title: **_When the Jailbirds Sing_

**Rating: **_M_

**Genre: **_Horror/Suspense/Action/Drama/Romance_

**Pairing: **_Toushiro Hitsugaya x Rukia Kuchiki_

**Setting: **_Alternate Universe_

**Disclaimer: **_Disclaimed_

**Summary: **_After the death of her beloved older brother Byakuya and the destruction of her home, Rukia Kuchiki is sent to an asylum by her paranoid sister-in-law, Hisana Kuchiki. While living in the asylum as someone who thinks she does not belong, Rukia encounters the grave tales of a dangerous inmate known to kill first and talk later. This white-haired sociopath is said to be damaged beyond any source of care that the asylum can give him. As soon as they make eye contact, a dangerous game of obsession and horror is woven. "No one has lived long in my presence. And you, Kuchiki, will be no different than anyone else." Because when the jailbirds sing, the one and only gets what he wants._

* * *

><p>Hisana cursed, watching as the slit surface of skin that graced her finger was now spilling tiny rivers of blood. The crimson color traveled along her wrist, forming tender patterns along ivory trails. Flushing, she scrubbed away the tiny splotches, glaring at the stacks of papers that she refused to file correctly. The smooth edge of one of her forms had created a straight cut along three of her fingers.<p>

She almost laughed. If Rukia had watched her she would have mocked her for shedding blood due to a small paper cut. A wave of bitterness overcame the widow as images of her adopted sister sprung through her mind, the smaller copy holding only a small amount of beauty that would never compare to her.

She was an angel. Rukia was but a shadow of a sprite.

Hisana rubbed her temples, her eyes growing heavier from the long hours of work and stress. She had taken the business with no hesitation after the death of her husband. She intended to remain that way, to be the most powerful figure in all of the neighboring cities. They would see her as the true runner of the Kuchiki Corporation.

She was beautiful and intelligent… why shouldn't she have such goals and achievements? It was only fair. Yet Rukia thought of it differently.

_Perhaps it was an even better solution to send her away… maybe she is truly insane. _She chuckled louder, her fingers drumming against the table. She had little respect for the commoners that lived in the district that surrounded that dreaded, old asylum. The inhabitants, on occasion, would frighten her.

She still owed them money.

_Relax, relax. They won't call again. You told them you have their money. Now all you need to do is stamp a few more letters… send out only a few more forums… then you can return to them. You can tell them that you will have no more delays. _

How long before they would discover her worthless lies?

* * *

><p>"Shiro…" The soft tone of her voice sent chills along the monster's spine. His teeth ground, his figure shaking as he gazed onto the hollowed features of what was once so important to him. She was only a ghost of her former self; her face, once lively and innocent, was now caked with makeup and sporting only a false sense of kindness and remnants of sanity. "It is good to see you again, Shiro. I've missed you."<p>

Hitsugaya snorted, turning his gaze away from her. How dare she intrude upon him like this? It was not her place.

"I now know why you did what you did. I know why you killed him. Why you murdered him…" She held her breath, her steady voice cracking with each second that passed. She was not going to waste her opportunities now. She was in the presence of the man that she believed still loved her. She believed that he still wanted her as his partner; an accomplice, a preacher of romance. She was a foolish woman and she failed to acknowledge this.

Hitsugaya would not look her way. His teal eyes were livid with invisible flames, dancing over the images of the corpse of the man he had slain… out of pure monstrosity. He could not remember the dark feelings that plagued his heart and soul. To his knowledge, he no longer contained a heart. To him, his soul was as black as the soil that kept dead trees steady even when they wilted.

Momo dropped to her knees, grasping the edges of her skirt as she struggled to find the correct words. Tears of remorse and thoughtfulness brimmed her delicate eyes. She was far too fragile to take seriously. Hitsugaya refused to gaze into the shallow brown depths that he once considered to be breathtaking.

"Please, Shiro… listen to me. Talk to me. I want to hear from you. I want to hear your answers. I know the truth, but… I know that I can only let you out of here if you know that it is the truth. So please tell me. You killed him because… because you wanted to protect me." Her smile sparkled with hope. "Please. That is the reason, isn't it? It must be."

Hitsugaya sharply turned to face her, his eyes wide and his teeth reflecting the image of a hungry animal. Momo blinked in shock at his response, watching, as the pupils set so steadily in his inhuman teal orbs were only getting larger and larger. They were defying her answer, destroying the smallest essence of greed and imagination that she had.

He hissed. "If you are smart, Momo… you will leave."

The woman's jaw dropped. "S-Shiro, I—"

"_Leave_." He was so desperately close to snapping. He wanted to break her neck and watch, as her life would slip away from the empty shell of flesh, hair and bone. He was merciless and had no intention of hearing her spew lies.

Momo stammered. "Shiro, please! You only wanted to protect me! I know that you still love me! I _know that you love me_!"

"Now, now…" The sinister voice of Gin pierced the still air. Hitsugaya growled, yet said nothing as the silver-haired serpent tenderly grasped Momo's shoulders. The Hinamori woman was not ready to resist. Her tears blinded her features, her thoughts dancing wildly as she stared ahead toward the monster that had rejected her.

She pushed him away first. She sold his soul to this hideous place… was this her payment in return? Was this her trophy of resentment? The man only watched as she was slung to her feet, her lips quivering and her skin crawling with doubt and shock. She never wanted to see him again.

Hitsugaya snorted. She was a stupid creature; a woman with a horrendous personality and the faintest idea of how he felt for her. His emotions were once tied in ferocious knots, refusing to forgive the unforgettable _wench _that split his life in two. She had taken a small sword and sliced his freedom, the fragments sending him in multiple directions. Pieces of him remained with the broken woman that still blindly cared for him. Other shards only wanted to remain away from her and escape the dreaded building that begged for his reactions and blood.

_She will die soon. She is too weak to survive in a world like this. _He predicted the outcome many times before.

The soldiers turned away from him, whispering to each other in hushed breaths. Hitsugaya rolled his eyes, scooting back toward the opposite wall of the glass box. The Sector Cell emitted fumes of old flesh and recoils of blood and haste. He was not one for tolerating such feelings, yet he was not going to give the soldiers satisfaction by succumbing to the uncomfortable aura swallowing him whole.

Slowly, his fingers began to curl into his palms, the slightly torn fabric of his clothing letting passages of cold air crawl over his skin. Goose bumps soon rose upon the tan surface, his frosty hair wildly splayed against the wall like a broken halo. His breath hitched, multiple thoughts bombarding him with images of the Hinamori girl… the dreaded wench that believed he had murdered someone out of cold blood.

Yet even he admitted he was a black-hearted killer. He had told himself numerous times. He had slashed his skin, taken his temper onto the soldiers, and killed several other cellmates that populated the fortress of Rukongai Asylum. He was a dreadful creature, a demon of sorts. He was not going to deny that.

The purple rings formed under his eyelids only conveyed the idea that he was exhausted. He was struggling with these pictures and visions, and was not going to fall asleep. If he ever gave into the darkness of slumber the soldiers would take advantage of his weakened state. They would poison him, mock him further…

The possibilities were endless.

But not even a powerful will was enough to stop him from being lulled into a long, restless sleep.

* * *

><p><em>Teal eyes opened to the presence of wide, open plains. Towers constructed of ice curved in opposite directions, piercing the ground and grayish skies like the fangs of a giant wolf. A heavy storm graced the dangerous yet gorgeous land, the damaged figure of Toushiro Hitsugaya marring the perfect image of weaponry and mayhem.<em>

_Hitsugaya shook his head, his thoughts rambling with nonsense. He watched as the swift storm overtook his senses, blistering cold wafting into his nostrils and flaring his organs like intruding leeches. He felt as if something was sucking comfort and warmth out of his bones, his very mind refusing to obey that he was put in a place of danger. He wanted to leave, but his dream was refusing for him to wake up. _

_Suddenly, the tundra vanished. _

_Pinnacles of ice and blankets of snow dispersed, swallowed by the newly formed pixels of soil and brightly colored flowers. The devastating skies had transformed into a fresh periwinkle, cream and white clouds painting the surface with elegance and comfort. The vast meadow was greeted with the interruption of insects with the most interesting bodies, their wings glistening with marvelous patterns and shades. _

_Hitsugaya growled, his fingers delving into the fresh ground beneath him. He could feel the roots of crisp emerald grass fold into his hands. Frustrated, he glanced around him at the strange world. The landscapes were reflections of each other… opposites. He knew this. But he wanted to leave. This comforting place was a dagger of fire to his heart; he was afraid of the different emotions flooding into him. _

_Yet once his cold eyes scanned the gorgeous fields, he stopped to let them rest on a twisted, vibrant tree set in the middle of the meadow. Frowning, Hitsugaya narrowed his gaze, observing the shadow cast by the lovely tree. Cherry blossoms were stemmed from the fresh mahogany branches, casting a sense of familiarity within Hitsugaya. _

_The monster was intrigued. He had no interest in the rest of the world… he only wanted to see what was beneath the powerful tree. _

_A soft silhouette had formed a mark against the tree's shimmering bark. Keeping his head low, Hitsugaya watched as the figure slinked into the open. _

_There stood a tall and breathtaking woman, clothed in a fine red kimono. Patterns of blooming purple flowers and ribbons of white silk flowed from the impossible mortal with ease. Hitsugaya stepped back. He was not going to be tempted by an image cast by a dream… yet once the image turned to look at him, he released a growl of hatred._

_Momo's healthy and innocent face beamed toward him. Her pale skin was colored with rosy splotches, her doe-like eyes casting a sense of familiarity within Hitsugaya. Pondering, he raised an eyebrow toward the silhouette as the lookalike plucked two blossoms from the tree. Flashing a smile filled with perfectly white teeth, she stuck the two delicate flowers in tresses of thick brunette hair, healthy and flowing like a river of chocolate water. _

"_What is the meaning of this?" Hitsugaya's brow furrowed. He was not to be fooled. Pieces of him wanted to embrace the picture of Momo and shower her with the attention he had given her long ago. Yet his mind spoke far differently. He remained hostile, refraining from the beauty hidden in her lovely voice and childish eyes. _

"_I am showing you _our _world, Shiro." She spoke as if they were friends… children meeting in a secret place that only they knew about. "You refused to listen to me. You didn't want to listen to what I had to say… but you know of the rewards. You know how I can save you from your torture. I can save you from so many things if you would just listen to me." Her lips were painted a glossy pink, performing another smile to the man that she still desired. She was a greedy creature. Hitsugaya knew her nature; he was not going to be fooled by an angelic illusion. _

"_You're not tempting." Hitsugaya snarled. "Not one bit."_

"_I know that I am not." Momo's voice turned harsh and cold. For a brief second her features turned old and withered, her vivid gaze dense and contorted. "But you need not remind me. I am perfectly capable of showing you of the dangers you have caused for yourself. With me, Shiro, you could have this world." She gestured to the brilliant tree. "You could sleep under this tree… rest beside me." She turned gentle once more. "Please, Hitsugaya. We could have this entire haven to ourselves. But you will only relinquish this comfort if you do not come back to me."_

_The white-haired inmate snarled, his fingers clawing his palms. "No. I refuse. You are trying to deceive me. You are not even Momo." He breathed sharply, his nostrils flaring. "You are not even _real_."_

"_You wound me, Shiro." She pouted, taking small steps toward him. With each step she took forward, he moved back once. She frowned at this. "Shiro—"_

"_This haven is only a fake world that my mind has created. I know that I'm dreaming, Momo. You're only a figure of my imagination." He was not stupid. The angelic woman frowned at this, shaking her head. He felt persistent as he continued. "I'm not going to be a part of your sickening life. You're nothing to me. Do you hear that? You destroyed my life… you sent me away! You betrayed _me_! And you expect me to forgive you so easily." The venom in his tone astounded him. It was difficult for his tongue to stop flapping. He had so much more to say. _

_The illusion brushed her fingers through her hair, the petals of the plucked flowers leaving trails of pink. "I'm disappointed in you, Hitsugaya. It's shocking to me that you would choose the ice-cold tundra over me and this wonderful place." She wrinkled her nose. "… It is that girl, isn't it?" _

_For a moment, the haven quieted. The breeze froze, the trees refusing to dance and the blossoms preventing their sway. Hitsugaya's eyes widened, his throat tightening as he stared into the ominous eyes of the illusion that was so impossibly beautiful he would not be able to turn away. His dream was creating tricks. His mind was a powerful and dangerous place, and he knew that even his twisted ways of thinking were going to affect his subconscious. _

_But he knew that even the roughest corridors of his mind were not going to construct an illusion that would dare ask such a personal question. _

"… _I don't know what you're talking about." His teeth clenched. _

_The illusion tilted her head to the side. "You are lying to me." She sighed, placing her hands in her lap. "You fail to realize how persistent I can be. I am an icon of your imagination, and yes, this is your dream. But my question is real. My demand is _real_." She was honest and brutal, her fingers slightly quivering. "That girl. The one with the bluish eyes. She is the roadblock, is she not?"_

_Hitsugaya snarled. "Don't be ridiculous. That wench is nothing to me." Why was he hesitating? His mind smirked back toward him, replaying his thoughts in a dangerous motion that he was not going to be able to stop in this separate environment. _

"_You desire freedom. You desire… separation." The image chuckled, her giggle high-pitched and fake. "I would hate to bombard your dreams, Hitsugaya. But your thoughts are demanding answers. They are confused. Troubled. After all, you know how evil your thoughts can be. So many lives lost at your hands… their blood stains your heart. It taints your soul." She smirked, shaking her head. "And yet, you believe that you can touch a woman as pure and stubborn as _that _girl? That _wench_, so to speak."_

_Hitsugaya's shoulders tensed. "I'm warning you." _

"_Warning me? Of what? I am only asking you questions. You know of the dangers of having mixed emotions, Hitsugaya. It is what the asylum wants from you. It is what the legendary warden wants from you." Now she was interrogating him to the deepest point. It was critical for him to answer. _

_Something was manipulating this. _

"_They want you to feel angry and sad, good and evil, troubled and helped, opposite of an opposite. They want this to create what they desire. They want something from you." She giggled once more, a small chuckle escaping her lips. "If I were a deeper part of you, Hitsugaya, I would answer myself soon before the unthinkable happens." _

_She turned her gaze to the tree. Hitsugaya followed, his heart leaping as he gazed into the eyes of an exact replica of _him_. _

_Though he was far different. His smile was wide and malicious, his eyes a cold and ferocious blue that rivaled the ice of a glacier. His skin was paler, his teeth sharp and his fingers rivaling the claws of mythical demons. However, his clothes, the shape of his face, his hair… they were all the same. Yet this monster held something strange to him, a powerful feeling of danger and cold reception that chilled Hitsugaya's heart and bones. _

"… _What is that?" Hitsugaya growled at the illusion, who only smiled. "Answer me!"_

"_It is you. _He _is you. I advise you watch yourself before _he _happens to _you_."_

She released a maniacal laugh, disappearing into a deep black void as the dream swirled into nothingness.

* * *

><p>Excruciating pain traveling the speed of a lightning bolt crashed through Rukia's system. She screamed and snarled as the lashing of a thick black whip slammed onto her skin, painful splits of blood appearing in the smooth ivory surface. The silver-haired fox only chuckled at this display, smirking toward the armored soldier that was clearly taking pleasure from whipping the bare back of the woman. She only growled and let her teeth clench from the pain. It affected her more to see thin streams of crimson liquid trail down her arms.<p>

"Make her bleed a little more. It will please Mr. Aizen the more she suffers." Gin chuckled darkly once more, watching as the hideous weapon collided with Rukia's body. Gashes of blood formed from the penetration, her haunting purple-blue eyes alive with hatred and lack of remorse. She only held disgust and distaste for the serpentine man that was so desperately trying to tame her.

_I'm not going to let you kill me. _The Kuchiki was determined and headstrong. She shared similarities with her late brother, and she knew this. She had knowledge of how vicious she could be, with her thoughts directed at the idea of the whip scourging her skin yet not touching her soul or mind. She was not going to let physical torture weaken her mentality. She was stubborn enough to resist Hisana's verbal comments that would chill a normal young girl to the bone.

"Such a shame that we must mar such pretty white skin, Kuchiki. I'm sure that you will like the little pink lines a bit better. It adds certain… appeal, to the rough design of a pale human." Gin was a manipulative individual. His venomous words stung Rukia, though she refused to acknowledge him any further. She waited and inwardly sighed in relief as she weapon finally ceased in capturing minutes from her life. She glanced briefly over her shoulder toward the soldier who performed the task.

Rukia hissed as she felt a cool wet cloth being applied to her flesh. She winced as the water slid over her skin, falling to the ground with tiny blobs of crimson spotted through each droplet. The soft voice of a terrified cellmate captured Rukia's attention, a set of familiar orange strands that reached the floor sending a picture through the Kuchiki's mind.

"I'm so sorry, Rukia." Orihime whimpered, her kind eyes flooded with tears. "I shouldn't have let you rebel like that. This is all my fault… everything that has to do with it is my fault." Her delicate fingers had a faint grip on the towel. "Please forgive me… this happens to rebellious ones. But if I wasn't in trouble, you wouldn't be in this mess." She was basically talking to herself; Rukia could only her the whimpering of a troubled young woman.

"Stop apologizing, Orihime." Rukia bit her tongue to suppress a sharp scream as the towel touched a sensitive spot. "It was my fault, actually." She narrowed her eyes. "I could have stopped rebelling but I didn't. So this punishment is my fault." _The rules here are complete bullshit. That reptile did this just for the heck of it. _She shook her head. _Hisana… what did I do to make you put me here? _

"Now, now, Inoue. That is enough scrubbing. She still needs to suffer through the stings. Those are going to be scars soon, dearest Rukia." Gin chuckled, suppressing his delight with only the slightest noise. He was an obnoxious person, and Rukia was far less patient than ever before. "Go now, Inoue." Orihime squeaked and dipped her head, racing to the door. Rukia only blinked as the terrified woman disappeared. Gin smirked once more. "She is like a mouse, that Inoue." He groaned. "Though you are far more amusing, Kuchiki… and absolutely nothing like your heinous sister."

Rukia growled. "We're not related by blood, you bastard." She glared at him over her shoulder, her dark eyes livid and defiant. Gin's lips twisted into a still frown, though h was not going to be humiliated by a stubborn inmate. Brushing away her comment, he only continued to murmur under his breath. "She put me here just to get rid of me and claim my brother's fortune." Remembering the icy hatred in Hisana's voice only made her angrier.

"You seem to greatly despise your _dearest _sister, Kuchiki." Gin inspected his fingernails, his interest clouded. "Though it appears that you could be hiding something important to us. For, you see, Rukia, there is another reason why you are here… in this torture room." He gestured to the massive weapons slung to the walls and the long stone beds that were once served as tables for victims. Rukia cringed at the subtle cold feeling that sprung through her bones, her teeth shaking.

She turned away from him, letting her hair fall in front of her face. "I want nothing to do with you or what you have to say."

Gin snorted. "You have no choice. It is not my decision, either." He shrugged his shoulders, as if pondering something. "Just listen to what I have to say, Kuchiki. Maybe this will interest you." Rukia rolled her eyes, yet she waited as the frustrating man cleared his throat. "Our precious monster. What is your relationship with him?"

Rukia blinked at the straightforward question. She clenched her fists after buttoning up her torn uniform, shreds of cloth hanging off of her pale skin as if an angry animal had mauled it. "I don't have a relationship with _Hitsugaya_." For some odd reason, her stomach churned whenever a stranger addressed the white-haired prisoner as a monster. It was not the true definition. Rukia had refused to accept from her first day that the mysterious man was a beast of any kind.

Gin popped off the cap of a green wine bottle. Rukia watched as he poured the contents into a glass, his expression unreadable, as his eyes were impossible to see. Rukia imagined them to be slit and hypnotic, flooded with multiple emotions that only displayed negativity and hated.

"Hitsugaya, then. I was only asking because I am required to do so. However, we have received strange behavioral reports from the men that guard the Sector Cell. When you were placed in that small box alongside Hitsugaya, the guards claimed in one of their reports that you two were not bickering… not even fighting. They say you were _talking_." He smirked at his own words. "The infamous monster of Rukongai Asylum and a pretty Kuchiki girl having casual conversation in the Sector Cell. Sounds like a fairy tale, yes?" He shrugged once more, pressing the glass to his lips and sipping the wine with great concentration. He was playing with his words carefully and quizzically. "So I will ask you again, Kuchiki… you claim that you have no relationship with that _cretin_. Yet he is a known killer. He has murdered residents of this asylum in the past, and in this manner he had not lain a single finger on you. Could it be your… generous, offerings in the past?"

Rukia growled, glaring at him once more. "You can't be serious." _He doesn't know. There's no way that he had known this entire time. _

"The soldiers may be pitiful and pathetic, but our cameras see all." Gin smirked, tracing his finger around the mouth of the glass. "You gave him a pastry. What was it? Ah, yes. A cookie." He chuckled at the thought. "A _cookie_. But of course, with a monster of his stature, that white-haired beast probably took it as a sort of token of appreciation. Whatever happened, dearest Kuchiki, it had affected our studies greatly."

Rukia blinked. _Studies? _She winced, ignoring the stinging pain of her wounds as she grasped the wall next to her. She struggled to stand up, staring straight to the hideously comfortable man as he awaited her response. He acted like a cat awaiting its first kill since birth. Rukia swallowed as she recalled the events. "So what if I was being kind to him?" She held her head high. "It wasn't wrong. And it shouldn't have been."

Gin pondered. "After examining that, Kuchiki… we had formed a decision. A very important one, actually. One that would involve you and that insect." He grinned in satisfaction as Rukia's teeth and fists clenched harder and harder at the discriminative words against Hitsugaya. "You care for him."

"If I do, we're only friends." She paused. "Not even friends… he thinks of me as a nuisance." _But I do want to help him. _

Gin intertwined his long fingers, as if absorbing the information with a great deal of acceptance. He seemed intrigued more than anything, but something about his angled smile made Rukia's skin quiver. "Mr. Aizen has his eyes set on making use of Hitsugaya and his unusual strengths. We have not gone any closer to our goal… but when you interact with him our goal comes closer and closer." He laughed darkly. "And thus, we have need of you, Kuchiki. We need you to awaken that creature."

Rukia growled. "I won't help you." She reached for the doorknob.

"Then you will remain here forever."

The Kuchiki woman stopped, her mind processing the devious sentence that had formed an icy grip on her heart and mind. She wanted to will herself to escape this dreaded room and avoid the attention of the serpentine fox… yet a piece of her remained in one place. This one piece tugged the rest of her in a fluid motion, demanding answers and satisfaction.

"Good. You reconsidered."

Rukia whispered coldly. "I'm not going to listen to you. At this point, I know that I'm never getting out of here. And I know that even if I leave, you will never let Hitsugaya go. He deserves it. It's because of you monsters that he's so violent and dangerous." She shook her head. "You're trying to make a weapon that isn't possible." It was horribly wrong for her to defend someone like Hitsugaya. He was a killer, and she knew this. He was the most complicated and troubled person she had ever met, yet more than anything she wanted to help him escape this awful place as much as the other innocents.

Gin ignored the plummeting temperature in the room, dipping his head. "You fail to see the plan that we are constructing behind the scenes, Kuchiki. You are already playing a large part in this." He grinned. "One that you will never be able to escape."

Rukia scowled. "We'll see about that." She left without another word, slamming the door shut behind her. Gin laughed, shaking his head.

_Foolish girl. _

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><p><strong>Hey guys.<strong>

**I really owe you all an apology. I've been absent for a long time but it's for the same reasons. I don't have school this week so I took the opportunity to write this and update today. :) I really hope that you enjoyed the chapter. I'm trying to make the relationship between Hitsugaya and Rukia have more meaning than originally expected… **

**If any of you are confused and would like to ask some questions, please just tell me in a review or a Private Message. **

**Thank you to **_**everyone **_**who reviewed the previous chapters! That meant a lot to me and I promise I will try to update more and more as the year goes by! I will not let you guys down! I promise. **

**Please review and tell me your thoughts! :D **

**~ Duskblood**


	8. Chapter Eight: The Other

**Title: **_When the Jailbirds Sing_

**Rating: **_M_

**Genre: **_Horror/Suspense/Angst/Action/Drama/Romance_

**Pairing: **_Toushiro Hitsugaya x Rukia Kuchiki_

**Setting: **_Alternate Universe_

**Disclaimer: **_Disclaimed_

**Summary: **_After the death of her beloved older brother Byakuya and the destruction of her home, Rukia Kuchiki is sent to an asylum by her paranoid sister-in-law, Hisana Kuchiki. While living in the asylum as someone who thinks she does not belong, Rukia encounters the grave tales of a dangerous inmate known to kill first and talk later. This white-haired sociopath is said to be damaged beyond any source of care that the asylum can give him. As soon as they make eye contact, a dangerous game of obsession and horror is woven. "No one has lived long in my presence. And you, Kuchiki, will be no different than anyone else." Because when the jailbirds sing, the one and only gets what he wants._

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><p>He remembered the day so vividly.<p>

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><p><em>Thick waves of white had enveloped her body, her eyes liquefying lust as she clung to another man for support over a falsely damaged relationship. With intoxicating aromas surrounding her pearly flesh, she was a woman that could easily have her intelligence and appearance affect the men around her. The tall, lanky figure of a stranger had held the monster's former lover in his arms, whispering to her, giving her ideas of comfort and fiction.<em>

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><p>He remembered feeling absolutely disgusted.<p>

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><p><em>Pillars of rage circulated through his blood like a fresh dagger to a lamb's heart, spilling the contents of life and appreciation across pure white animal fleece. The monster was never the possessive type, and he never felt such emotions for this particular woman. But in the instant he saw the disloyalty in her warm brown eyes, he had tricked himself into believing that she was different than the others.<em>

_She held his mind captive, as if playing the role of a witch searching for the perfect ingredients to her next spell. The monster never truly asked her why she had gone against him so privately, so secretively… as if she never wanted to lose her contact with him but would easily avoid their relationship in the background. She treated him as a form of beautiful distraction, and nothing more. _

_He never regretted letting the boiling rage seep into his mind, screaming unholy thoughts toward his muscles and instincts. In a matter of seconds he had the blonde stranger's neck in his surprisingly powerful hands, the body soon torn into several inhuman directions. His neck was snapped, his ribcage smashed underneath the surface of pale skin, the sickening rivers of crimson marring the carpeted floors and his lover's estranged face. _

_She was horrified, and accused him of being the unfaithful one. He had destroyed the one object to their affections, the cretin that had stolen his lover without a second thought. Though once the strange uniformed men arrived at their doorstep and he was thrown into shackles, he could not recollect the fact that the woman he thought he loved was betraying him once again._

_That foolish creature assumed he was protecting her. No… even he would admit that his selfish desires led to the death of the blonde stranger. He had no interest in leaving any of his property's secret obsessions alive. It was not long before he was arrested and imprisoned in the ominous cell of Rukongai Asylum, that he realized the blonde one was not the first. Several men reported to him with news of that idiot woman being their personal pleasure. He recalled the feeling of bile rising to his throat, his pathetic softer emotions immediately escaping his stone-cold soul. He accepted the fact that Hinamori Momo was an absolutely daft woman that would never be able to associate him with a monster, or to associate him with a lover. In the past he would have felt pinches of inward pain from hearing such accusations… yet now they only gave him the sense of satisfaction and humor._

_He had escaped the dreadful creature, and he was never going to return to her. She wanted him back in her arms, to manipulate him with her false appearance of long eyelashes and plump rosy lips. Yet now she was simply a mannequin, a washed-up interpretation of love and lust. To him, she was but an obstacle that he knew he could not destroy. _

_If he were not so effortlessly contained, he would have gladly torn out her heart and watched her lively brown eyes crumble into black, soulless depths. He would have loathed the idea of her living in peace and harmony while scorning him in his cell, flaunting her physical prowess to strangers of all kinds… ones that held no similarity to her former lover…_

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><p>Shards of impenetrable turquoise locked toward the unusual presentation of perfectly sliced meat, topped with a heavy rose-colored cream. Bottled oil was spread around the sides of a monogrammed dish, a freshly squeezed lemon sitting beside a collection of sweet fruit. A strip of parsley lay within the sliced meal; the thick smells of steak and a strange foreign sauce spilling through the beast's curious nostrils. His stomach rumbled in response to something that appeared so longing, as he was usually fed strange grain-like food through a spoon.<p>

The cafeteria was never absent of the strange individuals. The female portion of the area was clouded with surprised faces and eyes, their expressions directed toward his brilliant meal and frowning in comparison to their own. Males watched him with furrowed eyebrows, disappointed with their own selection of food after observing the detail and elegance of his supposedly temporary dish.

There was no reason to bribe him. Grinding his teeth, Hitsugaya attempted to divert his attention to any other corner of the room, his mouth watering in imagination of devouring the filling meal set before him. His hunger was deprived and it needed the satisfaction of meat to slide through his throat, the memories of a healthy life in a clean apartment complex suddenly ringing small bells in his head.

"Be a good dog and eat what Ichimaru gave you." An armored soldier cast the prisoner a blank look, as if expecting the dangerous mortal to consume any treasured meal, despite being presented by a man that he _greatly _despised. The soldier released an irritated sigh, ignoring the rumbles of hunger emitting from the monster's stomach and the angry growls rising in his throat.

"Give it up. He's not going to eat. He's too stubborn. I bet he only craves human flesh. Remember, some of the soldiers said that he eats _girls_." The two guards snickered toward each other with the common idea that they had the nerve to engage in an offensive conversation. "Pretty ones, even. Gin even said that he has his little eye on a girl here."

Hitsugaya's ear twitched, his fingers drumming against the table. He was sitting alone in the ominous glass box that separated him from the outside world, though the soldiers standing beside him gave him enough detail for him to understand exactly what was happening outside the walls. A part of him wanted to listen to this conversation and pinpoint the interesting aspects… though another part of him wanted to simply gut the soldiers and escape the blasted box like he had done many times before. The shackles clamped around his wrists, ankles and neck only made the pleasant daydream less reliable.

"Hmmm… do you think it's that orange-haired bimbo?" Hitsugaya's teeth ground in response to these ridiculous words. The curvaceous woman was a popular target for lust and hidden desire from the soldiers and the other male inmates, though he had absolutely no interest in such a pathetic creature. She barely held eye contact with him, simply faking her dumb intellect for attention from her peers.

In a way, without even knowing her, she disgusted him.

"I don't think so. She's the typical girl that _we _want to score." The second soldier made a disgustingly lustful sound that pained Hitsugaya with annoyance. "I don't see anyone else that's even the least bit interesting. Only that gorgeous bimbo has the body of a goddess here."

Hitsugaya blocked the rest of their conversation, his intense gaze narrowing as he glanced through the dreamily thickening walls of the containment box. With little to discover, he barely found anything interesting past the locked doors; only the hooting and hollering from inmate baboons when a woman caught their attention. Hitsugaya would never understand how actual attraction felt… not even the dreaded woman he used to contain in his life was an actual form of flattery or desire.

Yet his heart flipped, his attention and eyes widening as they collected the image of the same, strange raven-haired girl standing outside of his box. Her heavy violet-blue eyes were angry and calculated, directed toward the soldiers with such an intense amount of disgust that Hitsugaya could feel a strange pulse of appreciation in his stomach. His meal was all but ignored as the girl turned to him, her tray grasped in her nimble hands. The soldiers turned to her with their same goggled expressions, as if demanding why she was present there and giving them a stare-down.

"Hey, you bitch! Get back to your eating and fool around with your peers! This beast is not for observations! New orders from the Boss and Ichimaru." They held a thick dose of venom in their voices, though the stubborn girl only raised an eyebrow toward them.

"She's still not sitting down."

"I have eyes, idiot." The second soldier growled and propped his tranquilizer gun. At the sight of the object violent thoughts immediately coursed through Hitsugaya's mind, his body suddenly reacting to the images of the girl unconscious on the marble floors.

A sick voice within him purred, morphing his subconscious into a dense form of alternate reality. The presence surprised him, halting his movements, chilling his blood to ice.

* * *

><p><em><strong>We should kill them. Kill them for even thinking of harming her. <strong>_

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><p>He tried <em>desperately <em>to ignore the hypnotic tone, to focus on escaping his bonds and to tear out the throat of the one solder with nothing but his teeth and sharp fingernails. Licking his lips, he could feel his teeth drilling into the flesh of his tongue, begging for the desire to scream in rage and to break from the metallic bonds around his body.

The girl seemed oblivious to his thoughts, simply narrowing her eyes toward the guards as they began to approach her, locking the glass doors behind them.

"We mean it, you stubborn brat. Go and sit down with your pathetic weirdo companions, or you'll have to report to Gin in his office _again_." The soldiers grinned once the girl kept her head low for a brief second, her fingers clenching the sides of the silver tray. "Go and run off to your friends. They're the only ones that care about you. Ichimaru told us why you were her, you little mouse. Your own sister didn't want you so she subjected you to us. Sucks for you, doesn't it?"

The inmates scuffled in nervousness, some of them observing Hitsugaya with narrowed eyes and tense shoulders. They were scared. Once the temperature began to drop in the room, the soldier's accomplice took notice, his gloved hands wrapping around the smaller, far more lethal gun on his belt.

"Hey, man, you gotta stop. Something's wrong."

"This chick needs to get a beating. Both physical and emotional. Look at her! The stupid baby's gonna _cry_." The soldier chuckled and began to boom into laughter, the temperature slowly dropping by each second his syllable carried through the anxious room.

* * *

><p>Evident rage boiled within Rukia's dark eyes, her hands firmly clasped around the edges of her tray. She was not going to be bannered in such a manner by a complete stranger, nonetheless a pathetic asylum guard. The hairs along the back of her neck rose, her thoughts suddenly swimming with anticipation at the image of the two soldiers unconscious on the ground, with an enraged Gin Ichimaru standing with a shotgun.<p>

However, even she knew that this imagination was never going to happen. She would have punched the idiotic man across the jaw for his insults, yet she needed to suppress herself in order to avoid contact with the strange Rukongai Snake. Flashes of his cryptic smile and silver hair only made her absorb the impact of the soldier's bullying even more. She clenched her teeth, fighting the urges to simply attack the man and release her violent tendencies all over his goggled features.

"Rumor has it that you're tough, you _stupid brat_." The guard was entertaining himself, realizing that the idea of no punishment was appealing to him. He could bully Rukia for hours on end if he so desired, as long as she was technically bombarding the rules.

* * *

><p><em><strong>So you're going to let his happen? You're going to let these imbeciles torture little Rukia?<strong>_

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><p><em>Get out of my head… <em>Though Hitsugaya could feel his strength rising, his frustration growing as his muscles began to loosen with the desire to fight. He did not want to only fight… he wanted to kill. To destroy those that would harm the creature that had granted him even the slightest essence of freedom.

* * *

><p><em><strong>She is yours, you fool. Are you going to let these idiots torture what belongs to you? The little doll's limbs will be torn before you can even react at this rate.<strong>_

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><p><em>Stop it! She is not mine! She is just some stupid girl!<em>

* * *

><p>The Kuchiki woman stepped back twice. She wanted to level her distance with the other man, her fists clenching even further as she slowly put aside her tray, setting it on an empty spot on the ground. The other inmates were watching, their attention clearly diverted toward the oddball that would dare oppose a guard, even if the punishment was cruel and unacceptable.<p>

The guard only smirked.

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><p><em><strong>She gives us freedom!<strong>_

* * *

><p>Hitsugaya could not fight the growth of his hatred and exasperation, both for the strange voice echoing in his mind and the soldiers threatening the raven-haired girl.<p>

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><p><em><strong>She has taken away her own freedom for our sake! Destroy those that are harming her!<strong>_

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><p><em>STOP! LEAVE ME ALONE! <em>He writhed in his constraints, the chains slowly forming a ricochet of cracking noises. Soon, he would be free, yet he failed to even acknowledge this. His eyes began to shift colors, between an ominous turquoise to a sharp, otherworldly cobalt blue.

* * *

><p>"Well, we'll see how <em>tough <em>you really are." In a flash his hands grasped her scalp, tugging her from the ground's surface as she struggled in his arms. Thoughts of penalty and the cracking of a whip vanished from Rukia's mind, and she immediately slugged her foot toward the armored man's stomach. He stumbled once, growling and throwing the enraged girl toward the wall.

The sound of a single bone cracking echoed through the room.

The temperature plummeted.

* * *

><p>The voice within the monster smirked. <em><strong>Destroy them.<strong>_

* * *

><p>Terrified screams erupted through the white-walled halls of Rukongai Asylum. Rukia's brain was hammered with so many unanswered questions, blood draining from her face as she struggled to rebuild her subconscious. The sensation of feeling one of her bones snap under her flesh was painful and domineering, her blood boiling as her veins pumped emotions of rage and solitude in her rapidly beating heart. If she were not so delirious she would have torn the soldier's face clean from the surface. She wanted to believe that she was strong enough, for her size and her strength, to overcome something so small. Obstacles were thrown at her in continuous directions, yet she tried to avoid them at her best interest.<p>

The only thing that registered in Rukia's mind was the atmosphere. Cold and frightening, she could see outlines of blurred people, their faces obscured by her delirium as they were hurled into death. Splashes of crimson stained her vision, spilling across the white floors as she struggled to maintain her thoughts and imaginative qualities. Bodies were thrown this way and that, soldiers struggling to control the situation with their dangerous guns. Yet one by one, she could see blurred faces jump off of their shoulders, blood shooting, voices screeching, and lives boiling….

It was a massacre, yet she remained completely untouched. She noticed a faint outline of familiar thick and spiky orange hair atop a fairly muscular body. The man's face was blurred, though the stranger's strong hands cradled her against the cloth of his uniform. She could recognize a feminine voice tailing behind them as the destruction increased, the sounds of another angry man responding to such noises.

Her rescuers seemed to stop, pivoting into the ground as a massive white light overtook their bodies, swallowing the silhouettes whole. Rukia could not detect the strange traces of the light, yet she knew that it was something otherworldly an did not belong in the asylum's possession.

She was barely able to keep her consciousness alive, her thoughts dwindling as she finally faded into slumber.

* * *

><p>The sound of a gurgling frog slapped sense and surprise into Rukia. Squirming, she resisted the urge to scream as her hands flew to her rib, the pain subsiding for a brief moment when she remained still. Blurred images of a possible outside world only disturbed her even more, her thoughts wavering as the familiar head of orange hair reappeared. It was a lighter shade than the girl's, dark brown eyes locking onto hers as they stood above her.<p>

"—ake? She's waking up…" the tone was far calmer than Rukia remembered, as the same exact voice held a steady amount of aggression whenever she spoke to the wearer. Angular features began to mold out, shaping a strong face with a permanent scowl engraved into his features. His clothes were torn, and she could see many scratches and bruises over his frame, blood splotches marring his white uniform and wounds detected along his bare arm and shoulders.

"It's about time!" The scoff of another male barely broke Rukia's concentration. She recognized the pineapple-shaped hairstyle, the distinctive mahogany color forming a stark contrast against the blare of a noonday sun. She tried to piece everything together, wondering how she could possibly be seeing a bright orb of light in a pale blue sky.

"Rukia!" The black-haired girl groaned as her head lifted from the barren earth, no longer feeling the sensation of smooth white floors or the glare of an armored soldier. She felt her fingers delve into cracked, hard outdoor surroundings, moss filling underneath her nails. Rukia tilted her head to see the same orange-haired woman with the green clip in her long flowing locks.

_Orihime… these three are alive? _She shook her head, mumbling something inaudible as the girl came over to her. She was still the same annoying, overexcited woman that Rukia encountered on her very first day in Rukongai Asylum. However, whatever occurred in the cafeteria had rendered Orihime several different aspects.

Her hair was ragged and messy, replacing the image of beauty and cleanliness that Rukia observed when first noticing her. Her face was scratched in several places, bruises detected along her soft jaw. Her clothes were torn, her large eyes expressionless and holding little amount of hope. Her hair, along with being distorted and tangled, was hacked in several places, wounds and blood splotches covering the surface as if wine staining a wide orange blanket.

Rukia frowned, wondering how hideous she looked while present before Ichigo and Renji. They were the only two men present, while Orihime seemed to be the only woman that would have survived the apparent massacre. A heavy knot of uneasiness developed in her stomach, and Rukia frowned. She finally mustered enough energy to speak.

"What happened? At the asylum?"

"We're still in the asylum, Rukia." Orihime's voice was soft, but the pain strewn underneath would have made any grown man cry. "We're in a virtual room. The forest you see here is only a figment of your imagination. That white light you saw? It was to make us unconscious."

"It transfers our minds to a peaceful place while the soldiers and the Headmaster organizes everything. Once it's settled they transfer our minds back to our bodies." The explanation was so raw that Rukia found it difficult to believe that they were so calm about it. A part of her wished that the situation didn't appear so blunt and simple.

Ichigo sighed, his eyes darting toward what appeared to be the sun, though the look on his features told Rukia that he knew it was not real. "We're stuck here until Snake Eyes fixes this mess."

Renji scowled, picking at his damaged clothes. "This is… the biggest mess-up since that monster first came here."

Orihime whimpered, seeking comfort like a lost puppy. "I don't understand why he would do such a thing. I knew he was dangerous, but… but not that dangerous. E-Everyone's dead now. How could the soldiers let that happen?" Rukia found it surprising that the timid woman was showing negative emotions that were clearly outside of her comfort zone. She was being more open about her inner beliefs and truly wanted the others to see how she felt.

The Kuchiki groaned, ignoring the sharp details of the surrounding world, such as the crisp emerald grass, the cool elegant breeze and the chirping of nearby songbirds. To her, the Headmaster had done a wonderful job creating a false world for troubled inmates.

_It provides a temporary haven for loonies._ She then blinked, her fists clenching. "What was going on? What was happening in the asylum?" She turned to Orihime with demanding eyes. "Inoue, you said that everyone died? That's not possible."

Ichigo's scowl grew darker. "Listen, Kuchiki. You were unconscious and we couldn't just leave you there. I took you away until the soldiers found us and flashed us with the Mobium."

Rukia groaned. _So that's what it's called. A white light called 'Mobium'. _She wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them close to her chest. "I don't understand what's going on. I saw… people, I heard screaming and I definitely saw blood. But that's not possible that everyone died. Why would the soldiers kill so many people?"

Renji snorted. "Knew it. Even with it so obvious she wouldn't think that it was the beast."

Rukia glared at him. "Excuse me—"

"Hitsugaya did it. The monster did it." Orihime's voice was positively broken, scattering in different directions with each syllable that flowed across her tongue. Her eyes were wide, her fingers grasping the fabric of her remaining clothes with far too much effort. "He slaughtered them all. He killed Tatsuki, Chizuru, the guards… I-it was horrible!"

Ichigo nodded, his expression grim. "She's right. He burst out of that containment box and just killed everything in sight. He didn't aim for you, though." He looked toward Rukia skeptically once she froze in response. "Rumors went around that you and that beast were close. I didn't think they were true."

Renji frowned. "Oi, Ichigo. Don't trust her. She's probably brainwashed by that thing. Who knows? She could be his accomplice for all we know. Maybe in a few minutes he will come in this room and kill us all."

Orihime started bawling.

"That's enough!" Ichigo barked, growling as he gestured to Orihime. "We don't need her crying and you're not helping with your paranoia. No wonder you're booked here." He shook his head, as if in disappointment.

Rukia could not place the theories together. She remembered being pestered by the strange soldier; his constant taunts forcing her to relinquish her guard and self-defense. Once he threw her to the wall the sickening impact cracked one of her ribs.

She could not remember anything past those details, particularly involving the fact that not a single cut was lain upon her skin.

* * *

><p><em><strong>It is done.<strong>_

* * *

><p>The monster was but a panting mess. His clothes torn, his features distorted with controlled rage and frustration, his hair frizzy, and his teeth clenching like daggers to his gums, he appeared far more frightening the norm. The massacre had taken place due to a mind that was certainly not his own, and he knew that he would be the one to suffer a penalty of death because of the outrageous beast roaring within his mind.<p>

His wrists were bound above his head, wounds imprinted upon his flesh. He was barely conscious, his energy depleted with every life that he took. If he were completely human he would have been ashamed of the deaths he committed, yet he knew he missed several individuals. He missed the foolish orange-haired woman with the pathetic personality and annoying voice…

He could never find Rukia.

* * *

><p><em><strong>We will. We will find her. She is still here. We can sense it. We know that she is here and she is simply waiting for us, like the caged little bird she is…<strong>_

* * *

><p>A spine-tingling voice interrupted the communication between Hitsugaya and his sanity.<p>

"Good, good… you have finally completed the final task of your obedience to us. Finally, we have discovered your true potential for Headmaster Aizen, you foolish creature. With your blood and this knowledge, there is quite a lot that we can discover about you."

Hitsugaya snarled, his tone darker and far more predatory. "I will _never _help the likes of _you_." The second self within him screamed for the chance to rip apart Gin's throat with imaginative animal claws. _You're an imbecile, Ichimaru. You always have been. I will never help you. I will not kill anyone else._

"We know that your potential is legendary. Yet we also know that you will not give in to us willingly. It's a huge part of your appeal." The silver-haired man chuckled, crossing his arms.

He was constantly enjoying the mental games where he could manipulate any type of mind, no matter how strong it was. He was a sadistic man that took solace within finding agreeable victims. To his instant pleasure Hitsugaya was a large challenge, yet the Kuchiki girl…

Gin smirked once more, his eyes slowly opening to reveal blood-red slits upon porcelain skin. "I will make you cooperate with your power's chosen weakness. That little Kuchiki will be the mark of your downfall."

Hitsugaya's blood froze. _No… no, she is just a stupid, worthless girl. The time she spent with you is nothing. She only wants attention like everyone else. She just wants the soldiers to pester her. She wants luxury and to take revenge on her sister! That is all she wants!_

* * *

><p><em><strong>No… you are wrong, fool. She is ours. You desire her more than any other woman before her. We must have her. We must protect her. <strong>_

* * *

><p>"I will leave you to your thoughts." Gin chuckled, the sound of the shutting door causing Hitsugaya to lift his steady blue-glazed eyes.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Ours. Ours alone. Admit it, and all will be settled.<strong>_

* * *

><p>The white-haired monster could barely focus; his attention directed toward the other self, hidden within his mind. He wanted to wreak havoc upon the dungeon that would dare claim him as its prisoner.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Simply admit it. I know what we must do. <strong>_

* * *

><p><em>Then so be it.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Hehehehe. Well, um… I know that I really need to owe everyone yet another apology. I have been busy for a long, long time and I know that this story's updates are coming slower and slower and slower and slower and slower…<strong>

**But this will not happen again! Christmas Break has finally rolled around and hopefully I will be able to update more than once this week! Please keep a lookout for updates and I'm so sorry for the long wait!**

**~Duskblood**


	9. Chapter Nine: The Demise

**Title: **_When the Jailbirds Sing_

**Rating: **_M_

**Genre: **_Horror/Suspense/Angst/Action/Drama/Romance_

**Pairing: **_Toushiro Hitsugaya x Rukia Kuchiki_

**Setting: **_Alternate Universe_

**Disclaimer: **_Disclaimed_

**Summary: **_After the death of her beloved older brother Byakuya and the destruction of her home, Rukia Kuchiki is sent to an asylum by her paranoid sister-in-law, Hisana Kuchiki. While living in the asylum as someone who thinks she does not belong, Rukia encounters the grave tales of a dangerous inmate known to kill first and talk later. This white-haired sociopath is said to be damaged beyond any source of care that the asylum can give him. As soon as they make eye contact, a dangerous game of obsession and horror is woven. "No one has lived long in my presence. And you, Kuchiki, will be no different than anyone else." Because when the jailbirds sing, the one and only gets what he wants._

* * *

><p>Swimming through the idealistic fantasies of a business owner, Hisana was more occupied with the realization that her husband was coming back to haunt her. Byakuya was an intelligent and incredibly successful man, shrouding the Kuchiki lineage with stunning reception and the constant pleasures of a true, hardworking business. He was not one to be trifled with, and Hisana would never challenge him when they were simply acquainted in the beginning and were nothing more than friends.<p>

She chuckled, slipping on an expensive silk gown, encrusted with the Kuchiki Corporation emblem. The significant style of the piece of clothing was what gave Byakuya satisfaction and flattery when he purchased it for her years ago. He valued the materials and believed that Hisana was elegant enough to wear something so slimming.

And she was beautiful. She saw herself smile in a mirror and would laugh at how angelic she was in her reflection, yet the sinister nature of her one smile would shatter the image instantly. She would pretend she was normal, with a petty life and with little to feed on due to her husband's death and the so-called tragedy of her sister being boarded in a cheap asylum. Hmph. Rukia wasn't even related to her by blood.

It was strange that they held so many similarities. In comparison, Rukia was but a stuffed doll, with Hisana as the brilliant marble sculpture constructed from an artist's view of perfection. Draped in gowns of silver and shoes of gold, with the perfect pair of luminous purple-blue eyes that would entrance any passersby. With Byakuya's assistance she became an astounding and well-known model that would forever grace the covers of foreign magazines.

She was resourceful and witty. However, even she admitted that Rukia would have been a huge threat. The impish little teenager was constantly fiddling with her brother's ideas, questioning the higher authorities and offering her own visions in return. Despite her outlandish behavior, she was actually insightful and pointed out errors in business meetings with her brother when she was less than ten years old. She was so intelligent… and Hisana was lucky that the little brat was finally lifted from her shoulders. She could now dance through her vivid mansion with the same grace and elegance that she held when married to the grand Byakuya Kuchiki.

_He was such a handsome man. A shame he had to die. _She giggled to herself, galloping across her stairwell like a forgotten maiden. Dreams, visions of fashion and glamour interrupted her folly and she only smiled wider at the display. Her imagination was running wild with possibilities. The possibilities of a woman that would soon grow out of the title of the widow of Byakuya Kuchiki.

She would establish her own name. Her own title.

She was brilliant and radiant.

_I am what Byakuya never had. Beauty, style… the malicious plans that he never liked to talk about. He thought of so many schemes, so many ideas that could capture other businesses and place them under his will. Oh why, Byakuya, did you never listen to me? You could have been even wealthier than you already were. You could have gained more appreciation from me. And alongside me, you would forget all about Rukia…_

Her eyes subtly clouded, the name just a whisper on her dainty, glossed lips. "Rukia…" Such hatred! She felt bottled emotions escape whenever she thought of the conniving little witch that threatened to destroy her life after the death of her dearest older brother. Hisana knew she was smart enough to keep Rukia out of the picture.

Only one death was necessary.

_A little fire. A little mistake. And the corporation is mine. _Hisana smiled to herself, splaying her lithe figure over the mattress covers of her bed. Pink draping of silk fell to her shoulders, contrasting with the exquisite white of her skin.

To others who knew the truth she would be the typical evil woman, with the astounding beauty and the intelligence of a witch. She was, in a way, a witch. Even she, the grand Hisana Kuchiki, knew of the possibilities of being labeled such crude names once she would overtake the business. There would be people that would scold her image and think of her as rotten and scandalous. She wasn't going to argue with that. There was no use to.

_Byakuya, you were such a great husband in the beginning. Loyal, tender, kind, loving… you bought me so many gifts, took me to so many brilliant places. Yet we always took that little brat with us. We never had time to ourselves and we never relished in the opportunity to truly be together. You would have been an even more wonderful partner if you just shut up about your stupid sister and dumped her in a pound. _

She was already feeling quite better about herself from just one small rant. Soon, she would be the greatest figure the world had ever seen. A model, an entrepreneur, a fashion icon and even a creature of desirable lust and objective affection. She planned to have many husbands, one more handsome than the previous, lavishing her with gifts and countless words of praise for her work. She would always live as a perfect creature with the mind for business.

_Now the only problem remaining is little Rukia._

Her fingers trembled at the thought. Rukongai Asylum was generous at first, but soon the payments would wear off and she would not have a penny to spend in Rukia's containment. She could only imagine how miserable her legally bound sister was, locked in a cold white room… alone.

She laughed barbarically at the thought.

"As long as I am alive, she'll stay there forever!"

* * *

><p>Whitewashed floors were littered with the rotting, decaying corpses that were once alive with the souls of foolish soldiers. Marring the stainless steel armor are numerous slashes of animalistic cuts and tooth marks, as if a lion ravaged each individual kill without a leash. Cracking his knuckles, Hitsugaya lifted his ice-cold gaze toward the silver-haired tracker that would dare to cross his path.<p>

"I know how much you despise me," Gin whispered, his voice laced with a familiar, deceiving venom. "But you know that I hold your very soul in my hands. I have the ability to destroy your very body and watch your flesh decay… you see, you monster, I have every opportunity to be rid of you. Every. Opportunity. But I have not chosen to use them. Have you figured out why?"

Hitsugaya's teeth ground. If he was released from his bonds he would tear Gin's throat out with his own fingernails. Snorting, he gulped through his dry throat and stared the serpentine man through the eyes. His tone was just as cold as the frost of a new blizzard. "Believe me. No one wants you dead more than me."

Gin's lips twisted into one of the most malicious smirks Hitsugaya had ever seen grace the man's slender features. "I'm sorry to hear that. I would have loved to use you as a rather powerful weapon for Aizen's expense. I'm sure you can still supply him with skills and good enough intellect. Perhaps you can tell me when you started feeling this way?" He paused for dramatic effect, laughing quietly. "Perhaps, you started feeling this way after you caught your lover cheating on you? Making love with a man that was not you?"

If it was a time any earlier than that, Hitsugaya would have been enraged. He would have yanked the cords from the wall and struck Gin to the floor, writhing like a wild animal as he would tear apart layers of flesh, blood and cracked bone. Ichimaru Gin would be nothing but a fresh corpse on the Sector Cell floors, the crimson liquid of his body deteriorating the constantly washed area. He would have been the most beautiful sight Hitsugaya had seen in a very long time.

Yet, to Gin's hidden surprise, Hitsugaya only spat onto the ground beneath him.

"Fuck Momo."

Gin's eyes widened for a brief second, yet it was dismissed. "Really… that's truly how you feel about her now."

Hitsugaya growled. "Yes."

"I don't believe you," Gin challenged. He was manipulative and could easily use his slimy words to his advantage. His talent in the category of charisma was quite high. His silver tongue had never failed him before.

The monster simply snorted, his defiant gaze just as frozen as before. "I will say it again then. _Fuck Momo_, and _fuck you_."

The air grew tight and quiet. If anything else was possible to listen to, one could hear a pin needle drop to the floor and listen to the echoes. It was dreadfully silent, though neither person was uncomfortable. Gin simply smirked, a low chuckle emitting from his throat as he crossed his arms. His pale skin seemed to glint like the shed coat of a snake preparing for breeding. He was greedy, and ready to strike like the most opportune cobra.

"You have grown in spirit. Could it still be because of that raven-haired girl? I must say, little monster, she may be small… but she is quite pretty." He snickered once the predatory look in Hitsugaya's eyes increased, as if an iceberg was layering over with the sudden desire to slaughter someone. "A little nymph, perhaps. Such a slender body, with the blackest hair I have ever seen. Tiny legs, skin smooth as marble; glistens like porcelain. Oh, and how could you forget those eyes? Large, delicate blue eyes. Or are they purple? I could never decide… you should have heard the soldiers talking about little Rukia. She was a sight to behold, far different to those other bimbos and skanks that populate this rundown asylum. Am I right?"

A breathy, barely controlled snort puffed through Hitsugaya's nostrils, as if he was an angry white-haired bull. He had heard enough. If he was going to act, it would best be at the moment he was the closest to Gin.

The silver-haired man chuckled, tapping his fingers together. "I am quite pleased with your reaction. And don't worry. The little Kuchiki is safe in the Mobium."

Hitsugaya's eyes widened once more, horror dwelling within the cold depths. "No…"

"She will remain there for quite some time with her surviving friends. Two men and one orange-haired woman. They were quite close with her, it seemed. The soldiers and I knew that we could not leave Rukia in the open for you to simply take. You barely know her, yet you are drawn to her. Am I correct?" The animal did not respond. Gin smirked. "Good. Silence means you are refusing to respond, which means that I am correct in my assumptions. You desire her. You want the little woman for yourself." He faked a purr, watching in satisfaction as Hitsugaya's skin rose in goose bumps. "How possessive you are… like a lion over prey."

The cords were loosening, indentations in the wall breaking tiny bolts. Hitsugaya was letting his patience overwhelm him. He was tired of this verbal abuse.

"A lion that can never obtain his one true love. Because she is so different. Hah! What am I saying? I must be lying to myself. There is no reason for you to actually feel affection for dearest Rukia. You want her body and her soul. You have no desire to—"

The wall collapsed. Gin's body was slammed to the ground, his chest burst open with blood pouring rapidly from his new wounds. His life had gone the moment Hitsugaya's sharp teeth made contact with his flesh, the security cameras registering every tiny bit of information as quickly as possible.

Hitsugaya snarled, and spat on Gin's corpse before proceeding to the closest door.

He needed to find Rukia.

* * *

><p><em><strong>I know, I know… you're all pissed at me. And you have absolutely every right. School has been extremely, as in, EXTREMELY busy for me, and I'm training hard for tennis and the classes where I'm struggling. I was going to make this chapter longer but I decided to make it… kind of a preview-chapter, covering some heinous thoughts from horrible, horrible Hisana and Gin's death. Come on, you knew it was going to happen, right?<strong>_

_**I will be updating very, very frequently during Spring Break. Since school's absent for a week I will have time to train for tennis and write as much as possible. I knew I couldn't make you guys wait anymore and I needed to get something out. This took way too long. Mathematics and chemistry will definitely distract someone when needed be.**_

_**You can go ahead and make predictions for the next chapter and, if you want to, you can give me some tips and ideas. I have the story planned out but I could definitely add some interesting quirks to liven it up a little. **_

_**NO FLAMES. Constructive criticism absolutely welcome. **_

_**And yes, you can criticize me for the lateness. I was very busy, but still… I was definitely behind schedule. The next chapter will be up to thirteen or fourteen pages, a little longer than previous ones. This chapter is by far the shortest and is more of a snippet. So please review to post ideas, give me soothing. Give me tips, reprimand me for being so unbearably late… anything. :)**_

_**I will upload the next chapter by Thursday.**_

_**~ Duskblood**_


	10. Chapter Ten: The Song

**Title: **_When the Jailbirds Sing_

**Rating: **_M_

**Genre: **_Horror/Suspense/Angst/Action/Drama/Romance_

**Pairing: **_Toushiro Hitsugaya x Rukia Kuchiki_

**Setting: **_Alternate Universe_

**Disclaimer: **_Disclaimed_

**Summary: **_After the death of her beloved older brother Byakuya and the destruction of her home, Rukia Kuchiki is sent to an asylum by her paranoid sister-in-law, Hisana Kuchiki. While living in the asylum as someone who thinks she does not belong, Rukia encounters the grave tales of a dangerous inmate known to kill first and talk later. This white-haired sociopath is said to be damaged beyond any source of care that the asylum can give him. As soon as they make eye contact, a dangerous game of obsession and horror is woven. "No one has lived long in my presence. And you, Kuchiki, will be no different than anyone else." Because when the jailbirds sing, the one and only gets what he wants._

* * *

><p>She dreamt of her brother.<p>

She dreamt of his mannerisms, his rare laughter, and his hidden joy… his death.

Memories of the way he walked, talked, and laughed. The way he carried himself, with so much pride and dignity held in his broad shoulders and common, calculating scowl. Whenever he would smile, it would show with little importance to anyone else other than his darling little sister. His lover, the far prettier version of Rukia, had him under her spell since the very beginning.

Byakuya did not deserve to die.

* * *

><p>"<em>Rukia!"<em>

_The aching, decaying voice of her sibling was drowning in the smoke and flames. The fire had swallowed up his body along with the rest of their own home, the walls collapsing and crumbling into piles of unrecognizable rubble. The one word, begging for her to remember what had happened that one night, echoed thoroughly in her brain and demanded her attention._

_Yet something blocked her path to discover what killed him. He suffocated in the smoke, didn't he? _

* * *

><p>He died of natural causes. An explosion occurred in their expensive mansion and killed several maidservants and underpaid butlers… along with the very man that started his world-renown Kuchiki business. Millions of dollars disappeared along with the dissipating flames, as soon as the authorities did their job and put the fires out.<p>

* * *

><p><em>She would never forget the emptiness in her stomach, the pain puncturing her heart.<em>

"_Rukia, get out! Now!"_

_Her soft violet eyes, so beautiful with their emotional depth and carrying far too many burdens for a child… they welled with tears, signifying the lost hope that her brother would ever escape alive. Even as a teenager, progressing through the stages of womanhood, she broke into sobs. _

* * *

><p>The investigations that took place were useless. They considered the tragedy to be an accident and nothing more, with little evidence to concur that anyone from the mansion would have caused it.<p>

And who in their right mind would want to murder a millionaire? Especially one as prestigious and wealthy as Byakuya Kuchiki?

* * *

><p><em>Bile rose in the devastated girl's throat, her voice threatening to leave her chapped lips and score the night with her cries of pain and misery. Her brother was the only person she had.<em>

_She remembered the backfire of anger and frustration built in the depths of her mind, as a familiar, slender hand kept her from diving into the ashes of the mansion._

"_He's gone," the sickeningly sweet witch murmured. "Rukia, my dear sister, he is never coming back. I'm sorry that this tragedy had to happen, but you can't find him now."_

* * *

><p>Anger.<p>

Oh, how she despised Hisana. The selfish portrait of the most beautiful, most perfect wife was little more than a walking scandal. Her lips were always positioned carefully, to mask the true hatred she felt for Rukia deep inside her blackened heart. There was little reason for her to hate her adopted sister so much, but Hisana would never bring the subject to the open.

She masked her feelings well around the authorities, pretending concern for the well being of her husband's sibling.

But Rukia knew.

The heinous succubus was jealous.

* * *

><p>"<em>Maybe this is all for the best, sweet little Rukia," Hisana whispered once the doors to the hospital were shut. Rukia's formerly unmarred face was covered in bandages and bruises from the fire, her left eye swollen red from being exposed to far too much smoke and licks of spare flames.<em>

_Unlike Hisana, who escaped the accident as a flawless statue. This was absolutely no surprise to Rukia, who would give anything to see at least one scratch on her falsely perfect guardian._

"_Maybe he's happier in whatever place he is now. Free of all the burdens he needed to carry around, free of caring for a little brat like you," Hisana seethed between clenched teeth, her wide eyes flicking toward the image of Rukia glaring through the rain-pattered windows. "Think of it this way, you selfish child; he is far happier now that he doesn't have _you_."_

_Rukia shrugged. She needed to pretend to be affected by these harsh, frigid words. Truly, her sister's hatred for her was never secret, and ever since Byakuya even started a relationship with the dreadful witch, Rukia knew this would eventually happen._

_None of this came as a surprise._

"_What, nothing to say now, hm? You should feel awful for your selfishness, always being there when Byakuya didn't need you."_

_Rukia's teeth grit._

* * *

><p>Lacing her fingers through soft blades of grass that she knew wasn't real, Rukia inhaled the sweepingly smooth breeze. She knew this temporary haven was nothing to be used to. It was something to cherish for the time being, to relish in her darkest memories and to escape from the reality of being trapped in something so otherworldly, and so out of reach.<p>

Ever since her arrival on the doorstep of Rukongai Asylum, she had felt uncomfortable and unwelcome. A miniature prison stuffed with crazy inmates was not her idea of therapy, but nothing was going to work for her. Somehow, she remained in that blasted place even when there was absolutely nothing wrong with her.

Of course, she already had a suspicion that Hisana was behind it. There was no other explanation; why else would she be trapped in such a terrible place, with its stiff white walls and frighteningly happy inhabitants?

* * *

><p>"<em>It's all your fault he's dead," Hisana dared to whisper, her clouded, menacing eyes betraying the previous image of delicate prowess. "Your selfish behavior and your constant, childish needs is what drove him over the edge. For all we know, especially <em>me_, he could have committed suicide. He was most likely _that _tired of us. Have you ever thought about that, little Rukia?"_

_If it was anyone else other than Hisana, the words would have stung._

_Rukia stared Hisana in the eye, and spit on her shoes._

* * *

><p>"Rukia?"<p>

The black-haired girl blinked several times. Once. Twice. Shaking her head cautiously, she lifted her wilted gaze toward the trembling, mottled features of the once-beautiful and breathtaking woman, Orihime Inoue.

She was sitting beside the same virtual tree, her expression lost with a twinge of doubt overtaking her eyes and lips. Rukia once considered Orihime very easy to read, but ever since the massacre in the main halls of the asylum, nothing seemed to make sense.

Orihime had snapped, and now she was but a crumpled flower.

"You haven't talked for more than a day," Orihime whispered, her soft voice shaking with each tiny syllable. It was dreadful for her to even _speak_ to Rukia, especially when concerning such a sensitive subject. Rukia knew that the orange-haired woman had no interest in talking about the prison that tore her mind apart. "But…" the Inoue girl swallowed. "I need to talk to someone. So if you don't want to talk but you can listen, do you think that's okay?"

Rukia blinked owlishly. It was an odd request, but her reminiscing over her brother's demise and her sister's villainous attitude was enough to drive her insane. She didn't need to dwell in her dark experiences. Tilting her head forward for a nod, she addressed Orihime with the best grin she could produce: a small twitch of her lips. "Fine. I was just daydreaming, anyway."

A flicker of delight passed through Orihime's warm eyes. "Thank you, Rukia." She sighed shakily. "I… I'm afraid. I'm still very afraid of what's going to happen to us here. In the Mobium." She seemed to flinch whenever the strange word was brought into question. For once, Rukia held no blame for her. "Nothing seems to make sense anymore. The white-haired monster has killed too many people, and no one knows why he's doing it."

Rukia frowned. She had forgotten about him. Slight anger overtook her senses, and her fists clenched. "Orihime—"

"You can't keep defending him," the other girl snapped. Her entire body was trembling, like a lost leaf in the middle of winter. Stricken, Rukia stifled a nod and refused to make eye contact. "He's terrible, Rukia. And even with you and Ichigo and Renji, I don't know who to trust… or even how to trust anymore."

Rukia's nose wrinkled in displeasure. "I know that he killed all of those people. And really, I don't know what to think of that." She then blinked. "Wait…"

A subtle thought occurred to her.

The white flash had rendered them unconscious, forced to dwell in this strange yet peaceful world that was known as the Mobium. For whatever strange reason, they were not allowed to see the damage of what the white-haired man, Hitsugaya Toushiro, had caused once the bloodbath took place.

Not a single scratch had scraped Rukia's skin.

She blinked slowly, thoughtfully. This entire string of events was not making any sense to her, but she began to wonder.

_The white light was called a portal to the Mobium. We're trapped in a virtual place, but… we don't have that technology. There's no such thing as teleportation._

Rukia gulped. "Orihime…" The other girl turned toward her with a frozen expression of hopelessness. "I feel like we're still asleep. Somewhere."

Orihime frowned, clearly puzzled. "But, Rukia, that doesn't make any sense. Why would we all be having the same, I don't know, dream? It wouldn't work. All of us have been here for more than two days, now."

And then, something else began to make some sort of sense. These people, unlike Rukia, were already mentally damaged. They had dwelled in this horrific place for years and, according to her conclusions, had no recollection of how common sense would play out in the real world.

So Orihime had no idea what the difference between subconscious and unconscious was. The only slightly stable one present seemed to be the Kurosaki boy with the orange hair and the permanent scowl, but Rukia had no desire to talk to him.

"We can't be asleep, Rukia," Orihime whimpered.

Rukia shook her head. "No, we are. I _know _we are." She shuffled in the grass, refusing to glance up at the strangely untouched and perfect blue sky. "Listen, Orihime, you already know that this place isn't real." The orange-haired girl slowly dipped her head into a nod, obviously hesitant. "Now, think about that. If this place isn't real, how are we awake and seeing it?"

"We're…" Orihime hesitated, finding a flaw in her stream of consciousness. "Oh. But, Rukia, how does that make any sense? Is that even possible? We can't all be having the same dream, and there's no way—"

"Would you honestly be really surprised if we were tricked?" Rukia frowned. "In the real Rukongai Asylum, our bodies are resting somewhere, probably locked up. I don't know how we're going to get out of here, since our minds are trapped, but at least I know what's going on." _Somewhat. _

Too much stress rested on her shoulders.

_So this means, whatever the light was, it teleported our minds into a safe haven. A haven for loonies. Like a personal prison. But how could they have that technology?_

The Kuchiki thought about this, her brow furrowing in concentration. Technology was certainly masterful in her generation, but it still lacked supernatural ability. It was not possible to jump through time with a flick of a switch, or evade black holes, or anything in between. Even the most outlandish of scientists could never concoct a machine that was powerful enough to destroy certain laws of physics.

Rukia's fingers curled into her palms. She was exhausted, devastated, and frustrated. Continuous images of her sister basking in her deceased brother's money only made her even angrier, her blood rushing faster and her pulse quickening. She wanted to escape this terrible place and find answers, all the while knowing that the dreaded witch Hisana was responsible for her horror.

_Think, Rukia, think. _She pressed her fingers to her temples, exerting a sigh. "Has this ever happened to you before, Orihime?"

The dainty woman blinked, still pondering over their situation. "No. This is the first time I've been in the Mobium. But now I'm more uncomfortable than ever, since none of this is really real… and I'm outside of my body. How am I supposed to think like that? What am I going to do now?" Orihime's teeth sunk into her lips, terror exploring the depths of her warm, gentle eyes. She was so fragile.

Rukia's shoulders slacked. "Well, what about them?" She gestured toward Renji and Ichigo, who looked as if they were bickering near the false lake that streaked the landscape like a snippet from a world-class painting. "They look like they've been here before. Pineapple Head seems out of it, but the other guy seems really levelheaded for an asylum."

"There's always been questions about him. Like everything else, I ignore it." A blissful, subtle smile took over Orihime's features, turning her façade of loneliness and despair into a liquefying mask of happiness and childishness. She was a practical wind-up toy, and Rukia was sick of it.

"Can you just stay focused?" Rukia sighed. "Orihime, this is really important. Because now, I think I may have figured something out."

_Our minds are here, in this fake realm. We all know that, but… how much of the asylum really is real?_

* * *

><p>Her fingers caressed the glass with such delicacy, such care that no one would have estimated the intense malice in her chocolate eyes. Her doll-like face, once seen as the embodiment of peacefulness and perfection, was twisted into a frustrated scowl that rivaled the temperament of a newborn lizard.<p>

She was outraged.

For whatever reason, the woman was positively ensnared with violent thoughts, her curling fists drawing blood from the sensitive scraping of her fingernails. Normally she would have held back her anger and let her temper stay in a normal, non-alarming rate. But at this moment, with all of her ideals backfiring in her direction, she was far too tired to deal with even _more _terrible news.

"So she knows. She knows what's going on."

"Not quite, dearest." The tall, shadowed figure of a man would have caused her to snap her gaze over her shoulder and address him openly, but that was not going to happen. Even to such an authoritative creature in her life, she was not going to stare him in the eyes and grovel at his feet. If she had any less control, he would have forced her to kiss the bottoms of his shoes.

Her lips quivered, desperation resting in her sharpening gaze. "I want them gone. Forever. None of these plans are working and… far too many have died. So many lives, lost, destroyed. But it wasn't really… it wasn't really him that killed them all, was it? I would hate to have that burden on me." She blinked childishly. "I would really hate for that, Sir."

"No need to address me so formally, my dear." A calloused, yet outwardly smooth hand graced her hair, lowering to admire the rounded texture of her face. She was pretty in many standards, but any emotion other than happiness had clearly formed a dent in her flawless image. "Now, you can complain about your frustrations to my staff. But I'm afraid I can't do anything else about him at this time."

She sniffled, her palms resting on the glass once more, gazing through the surface with malleable eyes. "Oh, no…"

"Do not fret," the calm man whispered to her, his face concealed behind the shadows. "I do not like to see you so distressed and unwelcome. Perhaps, you should take a breather and rest on one of our couches. You simply go down the hall and exit through the resting area."

"No. I can't leave now. Not after seeing… seeing _him _like this!" Her bottom lip trembled like that of a kicked puppy's, a whine of frustration and forlorn emotions rumbling in her throat. She was so lost, this poor soul.

"If you are this angered, Miss, you should rest. Giving your mind a little comfort will bring you no harm. Think about it like that." Not even the most skillful of eyes could have detected the malicious smile spreading wide through the darkness, like a set of pearls under a blanket of shadows.

The woman's shoulders shook. She was so devastated. Far too many thoughts concerning why she was there and who she wanted to see… none of it was going to make sense to her. She either needed to scream and bury her face into a pillow, or fall asleep and rest for days.

"No, I can't rest now…"

"Oh, but you should." An outline of a sturdy, handsome face could have been seen through the black veil. "My dear, giving your mind a good rest will make you think clearer. Gazing at this man so forlornly will only make your emotions override and your thoughts to think unruly things…"

"Unruly things?" She then blinked, pondering over her previous answers to the mysterious individual. "Whatever happened to Gin?"

A pause settled in the darkened room. "He is… resting."

"Resting? He promised me—"

"I know very well what he promised you," he hissed in return, sending his words like knives through the echoing, bounce-walled room. Already, his patience was wearing thin with this fish-brained woman. Five minutes into their brief conversations and he would already forget her name.

"I understand," she whispered solemnly. "Please don't berate me anymore." She sighed and rested her hands over the crooks of her elbows, as if she was freezing and needed a jacket. "I know that this is not the right time to ask you any favors, but I need them. I need another favor… a chance to have him back."

"I'm afraid that I cannot perform miracles."

Her nose wrinkled in distaste. "I paid for this to happen! And nothing's working at all! I asked for a solution! I paid you… I paid you so much money. How could this go down the drain like that? I don't understand how your system works, and at this point I really don't want to know. I just want him back."

The mysterious stranger hissed in the cold blackness. "We will talk later."

Her anger hung thin in the air.

* * *

><p>"You're crazy," Renji muttered, his disbelief leaving a thick trail in the moist, comfortable atmosphere of the Mobium. Unfortunately, despite his venomous words and the one he acquired for using them, he seemed to fidget with doubt. He was clearly open to any suggestion that could explain their predicament. "Really, though, what kind of answer is that? We're not mindless zombies."<p>

Ichigo scowled. "Just listen closer, Renji. She's not saying we're zombies."

Rukia growled, keeping her nose high in the air. She was not going to let this Pineapple Head tell her that her ideas were rubbish, or this carrot-top to protect her and shield her like she was some sort of child.

"What other explanation makes sense? Only our minds are here, and we somehow need to escape." Rukia frowned. "Just listen to yourself, Pineapple Head. Nothing is going to work and not a single idea will work if you have this attitude." She folded her arms across her chest, irritated. "I mean, really."

Ichigo shoved his hands into his pockets. "Renji."

The tattooed inmate snarled, his upper lip curling. "Fat chance in hell! Why should we trust this pipsqueak? She shows up out of the blue and all of a sudden she's got out trust? No way, man. Not gonna happen."

"Renji, please," Orihime begged, whimpering. "We have no other choice. I think Rukia could be right. What other explanation makes sense?" She hesitated, knowing that she would lose Renji's trust as soon as the words left her delicate mouth. "If this world isn't real, how are we talking and living and breathing through it? It's just our minds."

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "I already knew that. I don't know why it's so hard to believe."

"Because that shit's only in those sci-fi movies! Nothing more!" Renji snorted, casting a sharp glare over his broad shoulders. "Listen to yourselves. You're talking nonsense. So, you honestly think that we're trapped in a virtual world, instead of some real area, and that our minds are active but our bodies are somewhere else?"

"Well, they're not _here_," Rukia grumbled.

"If that's true, then how the hell are we going to get out?" Renji scowled, demanding an answer by simply glaring at the petite girl.

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "But that's no reason to give up."

The image of a scowling, white-haired boy labeled as the asylum's monster flashed through her thoughts. A subtle smile took over her lips, her heart settling as she imagined the current state of the dangerous man.

She still did not believe he murdered all of those inmates. Blood and torn flesh had stained the asylum grounds, and he was coming for her. But was he truly going to kill her? Tear her apart like he did with the others?

She barely knew him, and yet she felt like she knew more about him than anyone else. He was troubled and had a clear problem with his own feelings, and outwardly seemed to detest her. But his mannerisms, including his sharp hesitance whenever she approached him, was what drew her in.

_He's troubled just like everyone else. _She frowned. _But why did I start thinking about him? He's not here. He's not… _She blinked. _He's not responsible for this. He didn't bring us here, to the Mobium. Soldiers did. _

"Earth to Kuchiki?" Ichigo frowned, tapping the young woman on her scalp. Bristling, she smacked his hand away and smoothened her hair. "Sheesh. No need to be skittish. We're just wondering what the plan was."

Rukia growled. "I don't _have _a plan!"

"Then we're doomed!" Orihime mewled in misery, resting against one of the virtual trees with a deep pout on her features. Even now, she looked like a depressed child who'd just had their lollipop taken from them.

"Our plan is to get out," Renji scoffed. "But since we don't have a _plan_—"

"Sssh! Do you hear that?"

Silence blanketed the three prisoners. Through the soft echo of the tree branches brushing, and the occasional wisp of the breeze, a shrill animalistic noise spliced through the comfortable sounds and created and entirely new alarm signal.

Rukia's eyes widened. "It sounds like… a bird."

Orihime frowned. "It sounds like… like Rulu."

Memories of the beautiful sapphire bird that captured nearly everyone's attention came to their thoughts. Rukia wanted to laugh at such a statement. How could Orihime recognize the pitch and tone of one specific bird? It could have been a virtual creation, something that their tormentors would use as another piece of entertainment. Just the very thought of this was making Rukia's skin crawl.

"It's not Rulu," Rukia groaned.

"Yes, it is." Orihime's brow furrowed in concentration, disbelief turning her face pale. "It is. It's Rulu's song. Her voice is so beautiful and it's distinct." She stared toward Ichigo and Renji, who were not easily convinced. Grimacing with impatience, the normally polite woman let her arms uncurl. "I know what I'm hearing. It has to be her, the bird. It's Rulu and I think she's trying to tell us something."

"Okay, it's not Rulu, for one. Second of all, if there was a bird here, it wouldn't talk to us. Ever. Birds can't talk, Orihime," Renji muttered.

"Wow. You're smarter than you look," Rukia snapped.

"Watch it, Midget!"

Yet, the song continued. It swept and curved, creating a gentle rhythm of waves and solemn tunes that would have enveloped a normal person's heart with joy and delight. Such a sound was a rare thing to behold and, much to Rukia's chagrin, she was beginning to recognize the distinctive sound that would somehow match the missing bird's.

And then, it clicked.

_Rulu disappeared. No one ever found her. When Orihime and the others complained about its disappearance, we were punished. _

Orihime's smile began to fade. "No, I can hear it's message. Rulu's trying to tell us something. We need to follow it!" The concept of a bird trying to leave them coded messages through song was highly unlikely, but several unexpected events had already happened.

Rukia's fists clenched, though at this moment she had no choice. Something told her that this bird, this Rulu creature, had a link to the one person that she was looking for.

Toushiro Hitsugaya. He was somehow… connected, with this bird.

Rukia glared at Ichigo, who blinked under the pressure of her stare. "We're going to take a chance and follow that stupid bird."


	11. Chapter Eleven: The Unveiling

**Title: **_When the Jailbirds Sing_

**Rating: **_M_

**Genre: **_Horror/Suspense/Angst/Action/Drama/Romance_

**Pairing: **_Toushiro Hitsugaya x Rukia Kuchiki_

**Setting: **_Alternate Universe_

**Disclaimer: **_Disclaimed_

**Summary: **_After the death of her beloved older brother Byakuya and the destruction of her home, Rukia Kuchiki is sent to an asylum by her paranoid sister-in-law, Hisana Kuchiki. While living in the asylum as someone who thinks she does not belong, Rukia encounters the grave tales of a dangerous inmate known to kill first and talk later. This white-haired sociopath is said to be damaged beyond any source of care that the asylum can give him. As soon as they make eye contact, a dangerous game of obsession and horror is woven. "No one has lived long in my presence. And you, Kuchiki, will be no different than anyone else." Because when the jailbirds sing, the one and only gets what he wants._

* * *

><p>They were officially out of options. Chasing a mysterious bird through the wide, open plains of the Mobium was like playing hide-and-seek with a ghost. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Rukia watched as Orihime cupped her hands around her delicate mouth and attempted to respond to the bird's gentle song. The tunes were lovely and wove through the nonexistent tree branches like invisible wires.<p>

"Orihime," Rukia called. "Do you see her?"

"No," the orange-haired inmate replied. "Nothing. Rulu is trying to make this easier for us. The song is only going to grow louder and louder. I know it is."

Beside her, Ichigo stiffened. He directed his attention toward the black-haired girl that was actually _listening _to Orihime's stubborn nonsense. He couldn't believe they were actually chasing this godforsaken bird without a second thought, following the echo of its voice.

It was ludicrous, but… he couldn't think of any other solution. Anything was better than being stuck in the dreaded Mobium.

* * *

><p>Tender, clashing scents of roses and dandelions flooded his nostrils. Teal orbs cracked open, as if someone took a sharp blade and slashed the skin to reveal the gems underneath. A low, rumbling growl emitted from the white-haired monster's throat. With a snort of surprise and contempt, he stared toward the endless blue skies and the twitching white clouds. Something was strangely different than his previous environments… and suddenly the memories came flooding back.<p>

_Blood. Torn flesh. Eyes filled with death. _

His teeth ground painfully as he attempted to sit up, his muscles aching with each twitching move he made. Blinking several times in order to adjust to his new surroundings, Toushiro Hitsugaya scanned this new world with widely open eyes.

He was present in a field of blooming yellow and pink flowers. The colors were vibrant and almost stung his eyes with how bright they were; pollen clouds drifted over the tremendously large area.

"Shiro," the voice. No. That _voice._

Instant irritation froze the boy's features. He turned in the sloping hills of flowers, staring into the dreadfully large, emotional brown eyes of the woman he loved so long ago. "Momo." His tone dripped with acid. "What are you doing here?"

The woman smiled, her hair tumbling down her shoulders like waves of chocolate. "I came to talk to you. To make you see."

"You can't make me _see _anything." He was stubborn, but the hatred and the dark memories of what this selfish bitch did to him was more than enough to seal his feelings. He had given her so much in the past, made him vulnerable for her affections, and yet she tossed his resentment through the nearest drain and put on a mask of indifference. She was a heinous creature and he would not fall under her spell again. "What you did to me… was not forgivable."

Momo's lips softened. "Oh, Shiro, I'm so glad you're talking to me—"

He snapped, almost biting off her fingers with his sharp teeth. He stepped back, ignoring the determined yet horrified glimmer in her seemingly innocent gaze. "Don't come any closer. I will not let you."

"Shiro, please—"

"_No_." Hitsugaya had restrained himself before. He had told her many times that he would, indeed, kill her with his bare hands if she ever attempted to converse with him again. He destroyed the very person that she was stealing away for her own pleasures; so how could he not relive the same pain? The same torture?

She was the very reason he was imprisoned in the first place.

Momo hesitated, her delicate fingers curling into her palms. "You must forgive me, Shiro. You have no idea how much regret I've held for my actions. I loved you so much. I should have never done that to you. Everything about your stay in the asylum was my fault, and I know that you don't want to forgive me for that…" She sniffled, rubbing her forehead as creases of defeat began to wash over her features. She was beautiful, once, but that beauty began to dissipate, like watercolor bleeding across paper. "Shiro, I know that you shouldn't forgive me."

Hitsugaya stiffened. She was too late. She should have known that.

_Don't talk anymore—_

"And I know that you—t-that you hate me." It absolutely _killed _her to say those words. Those painful, breathless words that would have driven her completely over the edge if she wasn't careful.

"You just now assumed that I've hated you." Hitsugaya's brow furrowed, turning toward the woman once more with disgust embedded in his shallow pools of ice. "I will forever hate you. You destroyed what humanity I had left. I killed that man, I shed his blood when I should have shed _yours_. I should have destroyed _you_, removed _you _from this world!"

Momo was heartbroken. He needed to break her even more. She was a cruel and calculating monstrosity; if he let her slip anymore, she would return to break him and step on the last pieces. "Shiro, you don't mean that—"

"I mean every word, you selfish bitch!"

* * *

><p>Rukia blinked in disbelief as the quiet, mournful sounds of the bird rebounded through the forest walls. The Mobium seemed to shimmer like the ripples surfacing a lake. It attempted to transform her feelings, alter her decisions into those that would prevent her from wanting to escape. She couldn't let that happen.<p>

_I don't even know if we're ever going to find Rulu. _She couldn't believe she actually agreed to go on a malevolent search for the small sapphire bird. Rulu would probably be no assistance to them even when caught. For some odd reason, she felt earlier that it would somehow lead to the possible key of escaping the Mobium.

Toushiro Hitsugaya. The murderer. The monster. The creature. He had many names, many different ways of approaching life and death. He was a collaboration of many distortions and parallels to reality; she didn't even know how to interact with the thought of him being alive and well. He could kill her if he met her again.

She wanted to know everything about him, but…

Why?

"I found her!" Orihime squealed in excitement, and Rukia almost believed that she would imitate a squirrel and attempt to climb the tall tree in which the bird was perched. Rukia glanced up, raising an eyebrow in surprise as the familiar animal chirped at their presence. Renji rubbed his temples as the bird continued to sing.

"God, someone shut that thing up!"

"No, she's trying to talk to us!" Orihime protested, her lips forming into a pout. "We can't hurt Rulu. Rulu wants to tell us something."

"Birds can't talk, you weirdo," Renji scoffed. Rukia rolled her eyes and approached the orange-haired woman, placing one hand on her shoulder.

"Do you think you can get her down?"

The girl flashed her a determined look in her deep, once-innocent eyes. "I can try." She braced her thoughts and turned her attention to the bird, speaking softly, as if cooing to a newborn child. "Rulu, little birdie! Come here, come here…"

The bird never twitched a single muscle. It simply twitched its head and ruffled its down feathers, looking almost puzzled at what Orihime was trying to do. Rukia almost didn't blame the poor creature—they followed the rather loud and obnoxious song through the wilderness, with the trees making it much harder a task than originally thought.

"Aw… maybe she's hungry," Orihime muttered, disappointment lacing every word.

"Or, you're even more of a basket case than we thought, and that bird is just a fucking bird." Renji scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You really think that an animal is going to respond to you? It's not like it's a parrot or something."

Orihime growled. "Why are you so mean? At least I'm trying!" Rukia backed away slightly as the two began to fight, the long ramble completely pointless and not granting any of them progress.

Ichigo turned to the Kuchiki with a risen eyebrow. "Any ideas?"

"No." Rukia sighed, and turned to glance at the bird once more. Rulu was watching them with a perplexed, endlessly blinking expression. Black eyes twitched and closed every few seconds, yet the stubborn animal stopped singing. Narrowing her brow in suspicion, the Kuchiki quietly traced her gaze over the bird's stature and actions. "Ichigo, there's something wrong with that bird."

"No, really?" He snorted, fueled with sarcasm. "What a brilliant observation. I had no idea."

"No, I mean, there's something _extremely wrong _with that bird. I don't even think that it's… Rulu." Rukia frowned as she observed the creature closer. With a startling reaction, she gasped as she pounded at her temples, the subtle disturbance of a sharp, completely new voice entering and threatening to tear apart the corridors of her mind.

_**Excellent observation, Kuchiki!**_

The girl trembled violently as if she was tied to an electric chair, snarling and shaking her head as her teeth ground heavily against each other. She had no choice but to listen to to the incredibly eerie tone, the words painting images in her head that rivaled the ferocity of a bloody, ferocious battle. Her muscles twitched and her thoughts sprinted for defenses that she didn't even know she could achieve. Confusion dwelled heavily in her dark purple eyes, and all she could do was squirm.

_**You are becoming quite an interesting aspect in my little game. First, you realized that the Mobium is not entirely real. And second, you realized that this dear little Rulu is not what she appears to be. Your sister was not smart when she sent you here, since you have no sanitarium records that confirm your insanity.**_

_Who are you? _Rukia sharply demanded, clawing at her hair and face. This was driving her absolutely insane. By now, Ichigo was attempting to shake her out of her stupor, while the bedraggled and quite confused Orihime and Renji watched, their jaws slack and almost falling to the floor. Rukia shook as the voice returned, sharper and more painful to listen to than ever before.

_**My identity is not important, dear Kuchiki. **_

_Just tell me who you are! _Her temperament was reaching a boiling point. If he was beside her at this very moment in time, whispering words into her ear, her dearly departed brother would be so proud. Byakuya Kuchiki always had influence on his little sister, and to see her standing up for herself since her traumatic experiences as a child would have made him crack the smallest of smiles. Just thinking of her sibling made Rukia's eyes moist. _None of this makes any sense._

_**Again, good observation, little Kuchiki. None of this most certainly makes any sense. I was quite puzzled yet pleasantly surprised when you managed to crack the first code: Toushiro Hitsugaya. **_

The mentioning of the dangerous man made Rukia's heart tremble. She was worried for him. But… why? She shouldn't be. He did nothing for her; absolutely nothing. The best thing the man did for her was spare her life, a time that even she did not know about. He was completely dangerous and would rather tear her apart than anything else. So why did her stomach flip and twist in knots whenever she thought of the confusing, yet understandably insane murderer?

_**Ah, so you are just as puzzled as I was. Good, good. That means you are most definitely human and not some… supernatural force. You see, Kuchiki, Toushiro Hitsugaya was the key to something marvelous. An interesting clue in our little world.**_

_I… I don't understand. _Was this some lunatic messing with them for his sick amusement? He was clearly male, by the confidence rolling through his voice and the fact that the masculinity could not be defined as anything else. Breathing shallowly, Rukia absentmindedly buried her head into Ichigo's chest, causing the carrot-top to slightly fluster at the contact, though he made no move to remove her. _This place isn't real. Rulu isn't real. So what is real?_

_**Now, that question is the one that you, surprisingly, have not been able to figure out. Think harder, little Kuchiki. You seem to have your brother's brain.**_

Rukia snarled. "Don't talk about my brother!"

"Holy shit!" Renji exclaimed, stepping back and folding his arms across his chest. "Chick is crazy. What's going on with her, anyway? It's like she's having a seizure without froth coming out of her mouth and stuff."

_**Your brother had a brilliant mind. Now, I want you to listen to a little proposition that I have for you, Kuchiki. This will certainly change your mind about this place and what you may do in order to escape, per say.**_

_You could never offer me anything!_

_**Oh? Not even the truth of your brother's death? Or, should I say… murder?**_

Rukia's eyes shot open. Wide. She couldn't believe it. Murder? Her brother died in a terrible accident; she would never forget the pillars of fire rising from their destroyed mansion, the tendrils of smoke reaching for her throat and attempting to drown her. Just less than a year ago, her brother perished in an accident. Nothing was done on purpose. Nothing.

_You're lying._

The terrible voice boomed into laughter. _**Lying? My dear Kuchiki, there is no reason for me to lie. Your brother, Byakuya Kuchiki, well-known businessman and millionaire, was murdered in cold blood. I will tell you the culprit if you manage to escape. **_

Rukia's teeth sunk into the flesh of her lip. _How can I trust you? _

_**You can't. Only your gut will respect your decision. Believe me, my dear Kuchiki; your actions will make things either twice as easy, or twice as difficult. Your death could actually meet you in the next several hours if you are not careful. **_

This monster was manipulating her. Her brain told her to refuse his words and ignore everything that he was saying. She needed to block these temptations from her mind. Oh, how she would give anything to learn of her brother's death. If he was murdered, she would need to do everything in her power in order to destroy that one person. The one cretin responsible for something so terrible; the very event that changed her life forever.

… _No. I can't._

_**Well… I will give you an hour to think about it. Remember, you have already passed several tests in regarding your current state. But you've forgotten one very important clue about our prized Hitsugaya, and his progress. Think carefully, Kuchiki, and you will be rewarded for your efforts.**_

The contact was broken, and Rukia felt the painful impact of tree bark against the base of her skull. She grimaced, rubbing the area and glancing toward the confused, expectant faces around her. Orihime appeared positively confused, with her innocent pale eyes. She would have looked like a child if not for her womanly proportions.

"Ms. Rukia, what was happening to you?" The Inoue questioned softly.

Rukia groaned. "I… I don't know. Something. A voice. A voice was giving me hints about the Mobium. The asylum." She kept the extreme details to herself. These people had no business knowing of her strange relationship with Toushiro Hitsugaya, and the news of her brother's possible murder. How could she not see this before?

And then, she remembered the ominous messenger's words. She had passed unexplained tests in the very beginning of the asylum's entry, apparently. She tried to remember to her first day, to the very first events that treaded her moments in that awful place.

She snapped her attention to Orihime once more. "Orihime," she whispered, sighing deeply. "Do you remember at all what you told me the first day I arrived at the asylum? I know that you were the first person to talk to me."

The Inoue girl pondered, fingering her bottom lip in thought. "W-Well, I did greet you. We talked, and talked some more about some strange things. Random things. But… oh, I was talking to you about Toushiro H-H-Hitsugaya." His very name sent chills along her spine. She could barely recite these words without trembling. "Y-You remember, right, Ms. Rukia? I was telling you about how he killed all of those people. H-How he kills those who makes eye contact with him…"

Rukia frowned. No progress. "It's fine." She struggled to smile. "You tried."

"No, wait. I almost forgot." Orihime managed to quirk a grin. "I was telling you how he got there. He… murdered some blonde man named Izuru Kira. He was a strange man that sometimes visited the asylum beforehand." These details were completely absent from their normal conversation. Rukia sighed and stood up, walking through the dampened grass of the Mobium's fake world before Orihime continued. "And, that he murdered his girlfriend as well."

Rukia blinked. "… What? You didn't say that—"

"Yes I did!" Orihime pouted. "I did! Remember?"

"No… that's impossible." She remembered being trapped in the Sector Cell with the dangerous white-haired man. He had told her many things about himself, and briefly mentioned a woman with brown hair; a lover, she presumed. He never mentioned killing her; no, in fact… he seemed like she was still alive. Still present. Rukia shook her head. "Orihime, that's not true. You never said that."

"I did!" The Inoue growled. "I _did_. Just try to remember!"

Rukia couldn't believe what she was hearing; and even more so, she regretted the fact that these words were beginning to return. She couldn't believe this. No, no!

_The orange-haired girl released a small, shaky whimper. "T-That is Toushiro Hitsugaya…" She shook her head, as if punishing herself for even mentioning his name. "He… he never comes out. Never. They won't keep him in his cell. They never do that. When he does come out guards cover him like he's holding a bomb. He's so dangerous. He's reckless, he's angry, h-he's… evil. He's __evil__. A sociopath… h-he murdered his own girlfriend, the man his girlfriend cheated on him with, a-and a lot of other people… h-he's a madman, Rukia. A madman."_

The words were clear as day.

"…_h-he murdered his own girlfriend…"_

How could she not notice this before?

* * *

><p>Hitsugaya felt his fists clench further into his palms, wishing that blood could well underneath the pressure and coat the tips of his fingernails. He glanced over his shoulder toward the woman that he once thought was so beautiful, who was now matching his gaze with a fierce glare that carried so much regret and need.<p>

"You don't feel that way, Shiro," Momo whispered. "You don't! You love me! You loved me when you killed him! You still love me to this day and I will never let you go!" She pleaded and buried her face into her hands, collapsing to the broken flowers beneath her. Seconds passed, and immediately the fields of freshly bloomed plants began to cripple and wither. "You can't do this to me!"

"You are nothing to me, you disgusting rat," Hitsugaya growled. "You betrayed me. You know how terrible of a person you are… I should have done so much more to you than I did. I shouldn't have spared you."

A thick, desperate silence was slung between them.

"… You didn't spare me." Her voice had changed dramatically. She lifted her gaze—eyes that were once filled with desperation, sadness and unrequited lust, were now replaced with the most unbearable disgust Hitsugaya had ever seen. His flesh began to ripple with goose bumps. What happened?

He narrowed his eyes in disbelief. "You lie."

"No, no. Why would I lie? You loved me so much that you killed me. You murdered me in cold blood, Shiro." She giggled quietly as she slumped over, grasping his strong shoulders and attempting to press her lips against his reluctant ones. "I loved you even when you tore my heart from my chest!"

Hitsugaya stepped back, disbelief clouding his cerulean eyes. The teal orbs burned like spheres of distorted fire. "No!" He never committed such horrible actions. He never killed this woman! He saw her with his very own eyes in Rukongai Asylum! She visited him in that blasted Sector Cell.

"I'm not lying," she whispered, her gaze darkening as she tilted her head to the side. "How could you think that? I loved you first. But ever since you killed me, that stupid purple-eyed bitch has been stuck in your head! I know what goes on in your head!" She laughed maniacally, twisted beyond repair.

Hitsugaya snarled. "I never killed you!"

"Do you know how I know what goes on in your head, Shiro? How you saw me in Rukongai Asylum? How you and the other inmates lived in that blasted place? You saw me in one piece, yes… but that wasn't real. None of _this _is real!"

The white-haired man felt his entire life draining before his eyes. No, no, this couldn't be!

"Shiro, this entire segment of your life is being played through _your very own mind_!"

* * *

><p><strong>MUAHAHAHAHAHA! I am a terrible person for leaving that as a cliffhanger! Oo, boy. I hope none of you were expecting that. There are only two chapters left, my wonderful readers. Thank you for sticking with me through thick and thin with this bumpy road of a story. And, before you ask… there could possibly be other ideas in mind that I have for this. Hopefully you enjoyed that little twist segment. The next chapter will be epic and long! Anticipate it because I will be releasing it within the next two weeks!<strong>

**Please review, guys! :D **


	12. Chapter Twelve: The Escape

**Title: **_When the Jailbirds Sing_

**Rating: **_M_

**Genre: **_Horror/Suspense/Angst/Action/Drama/Romance_

**Pairing: **_Toushiro Hitsugaya x Rukia Kuchiki_

**Setting: **_Alternate Universe_

**Disclaimer: **_Disclaimed_

**Summary: **_After the death of her beloved older brother Byakuya and the destruction of her home, Rukia Kuchiki is sent to an asylum by her paranoid sister-in-law, Hisana Kuchiki. While living in the asylum as someone who thinks she does not belong, Rukia encounters the grave tales of a dangerous inmate known to kill first and talk later. This white-haired sociopath is said to be damaged beyond any source of care that the asylum can give him. As soon as they make eye contact, a dangerous game of obsession and horror is woven. "No one has lived long in my presence. And you, Kuchiki, will be no different than anyone else." Because when the jailbirds sing, the one and only gets what he wants._

* * *

><p>"Sir." The word was gentle, timid, almost. The woman flinched in the darkness as the person she addressed simply glared over his broad shoulder, keeping his expression intact and his large, narrowed brown eyes in focus. He was barely listening to her. "Please, tell me what will happen when he's awakened."<p>

"He won't be. Not unless the Kuchiki girl pieces everything together. Which would surprise me, but pleasantly." He chuckled in the shadows, the mirrored glint of his glasses shedding light in the corner of the room. "You need to be more useful."

"I'm doing what I can. I've gone in there several times, for you, my lo—"

"Do not finish that sentence." The hulking figure of the man rose to his feet, the white lab coat strewn over his body barely being able to hide his intimidating stature. His thick, pointed chin and wide smile was clearly present through the shadows. The woman dipped her head, familiar doe-like eyes obeying his every word. "You have not earned my total appreciation and love until you complete your task at hand. Break Toushiro Hitsugaya."

"I am doing whatever I can!" The woman whimpered, and the lights flickered once more. It traced the prettily round structure of her face and her quivering, pouty lips. "Please. I've done so much for you—"

"Must you test my patience?"

"Perhaps you should send her even further into the Mobium, Master." The stoic, slickly familiar voice brought an enormous smile upon the heftier man's features. Dressed entirely in black, his always-closed eyes reflecting both the personas of a fox and a snake, and the locks of silver hair… it was unbelievable to see the man standing alive and well in the middle of the strange room.

The woman spluttered. "No! It's too dangerous. One of us could be trapped forever!"

"We already are trapped, you fool," the silver-haired man whispered, clearly irritated with the female. "We have had several chances to be rid of these nuisances, and not once have we succeeded. Master Aizen, if I may—"

"Enough talking, Gin," Aizen replied, his tone thick. "We will get what we want. Toushiro Hitsugaya is the key to our eminent freedom. And if that Kuchiki girl follows each step perfectly, we will be released in no time at all."

* * *

><p><em>"Shiro, this entire segment of your life is being played through <em>_your very own mind__!"_

He couldn't speak. His fingers curled into his palms, the flesh threatening to rip under the painful contact, grating against his fingernails. The expression in his cold teal eyes was betraying the former of hurt, disgust and revulsion. He would never feel the same way again, not with these words echoing through the deep corridors of his brain and trying to take over what little he had left of sanity.

"Don't you see?" Momo continued, her tone turning soft once more. "We belong together. In this world. Just you and me. If you just tried to remain here, in this beautiful Mobium with the woman that you really, _really _love, then it should be me. It should be."

Hitsugaya shook his head, stepping back and refusing to glance her in the eye. His teeth were grinding painfully against one another, and he had no choice but to reflect on these horrendous words she dared to say. "You're lying. You're _lying_." She had to be.

Momo rolled her eyes. "Shiro, no. What I'm telling you is the absolute truth. This is your mind. Everything that you've experienced upon entering the asylum, is through your mind. Don't you remember? Don't you remember what you did to me? You murdered me in cold blood. I cheated on you, yes, but…" she trailed off, light tears beginning to dwell in those chocolate depths. "You shouldn't have killed me. Izuru was already dead. You already expressed how much hatred and rage you had for him."

Hitsugaya's nose wrinkled. "I did not kill you—"

"You _did_! You just can't remember!" Momo's shoulders shook. "Please, you have to believe me! You can repent for what you did, for killing me, if you just walk through the field." She gestured across the massive plain of wildflowers, their multiple colors stinging the intensity in Hitsugaya's frozen eyes. "Please. Walk with me. Enjoy the gentle scents and the presence of beauty that you've never been able to see."

The sociopath felt his decisions waver. How could he believe her? She could have been sent here, through one of the paths of the Mobium, just to trick him into falling for her again. What she claimed didn't even make any sense. He didn't kill her. There was no possible way he could. He still loved her at the time; she stole his heart many years ago and traded it for one night with the blonde son of a bitch.

"If what you're saying is true," he growled out. "Then leave. Never come back. I never want to see your face again."

Momo's skin bristled. "Shiro—"

"Or I will kill you again. Here and now." His tone dripped with seriousness; the venom was unmistakable. She had grown his hatred far past the breaking point. It was already a miracle that he wasn't attempting to slaughter her for a second time. He still didn't believe he murdered her several years prior, but that was not going to stop him from threatening her. He needed time to think, and not with this horrible person breathing down his neck.

"You wouldn't," she whispered in reply. "You would never do that. Never."

"You seem to have forgotten how little you matter to me now." The words were probably the harshest he had ever said to her, more so than even his declaration of his overbearing hatred. He despised her to the core for her manipulation, her betrayal, her lies…

"You wouldn't do that, Shiro!" she pleaded, reaching for his sleeve and digging her nails into the dark fabric. "Please listen to me! You just need to calm down. Walk through the flowers with me. Enjoy the view."

He was losing his patience. "Hinamori," he growled, refusing to address her by her first name. "Let _go_."

"No!"

"That is enough." A new voice suddenly broke the two's argument. Prickling from head to toe in shock and newfound disbelief, Hitsugaya glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the powerful vocal declaration. Standing there was a tall, broad-shouldered man, with a narrowed, pointed chin, fair skin and locks of wavy brunette hair. Perched on his nose, with the glass covering his seemingly warm brown eyes, was a pair of black-rimmed glasses. He appeared to be casually strolling through the tender flowers with a look of annoyance subtly passing the peaceful image. "Hinamori. Release him immediately."

To Hitsugaya's surprise, she obeyed the stranger. She dashed to his side with absolute childish adoration framing her pretty face, her long brown hair flowing behind her in a gentle river. She clung to the stranger's arm, nuzzling into his powerful chest and refusing to release from him.

Hitsugaya growled, the growing breeze tangling the white spikes of his hair. "Who are you?" he demanded ruefully.

The stranger smirked. "I am Aizen Sosuke, creator of the Rukongai Asylum." Hitsugaya felt his blood turn to ice at this statement, rage once again slithering into his frigid teal eyes. The man, claiming to be some human named Aizen, released a low, bellowing laugh. "Ah, so you are confused. Let me explain, then."

"I want nothing to do with you." Hitsugaya snarled. "Just leave me be."

"Oh, but I assumed you wanted the truth. About the asylum. About how you murdered Hinamori Momo in cold blood." His fingers combed through the giggling woman's long locks of hair. "You are a monster, Toushiro Hitsugaya, which is why I have kept you alive all this time. I have created far too many illusions for you to understand."

Hitsugaya felt his temples throb. "How dare you manipulate me like this?" He snarled lowly. "I have done _nothing _to you!"

"Your insanity is the key to my freedom." Aizen shrugged. "It is as simple as that. You see, Mr. Hitsugaya, there have been many flaws with my previous programs. There were multiple districts other than Rukongai that refused to take my technology seriously." He chuckled as he dismissed the anger in the white-haired man's gaze. "Rukongai, despite how poor it was, decided that they would allow me to construct my experiments. And so, I forged contracts with the government, to create agreements on how I would test my subjects."

Hitsugaya rolled his eyes. He didn't want to hear any more of this, this _nonsense_.

"And thus, Rukongai Asylum was born. Though, not in the manner that you would expect. Yes, you murdered Hinamori Momo, your own girlfriend, in cold blood." Hitsugaya's lips thinned. "Your raw power… it was fascinating. I immediately sent files of interest to Hinamori Momo's lawyer, who was going to be responsible for imprisoning you in court. Instead, I wanted to use your powerful mind and abilities to my own advantage."

"You're not telling the truth," Hitsugaya snorted. "How could I benefit you? You are alive."

Aizen's lips twitched. "Well… technically, I am, yes."

Hitsugaya turned to him now, demanding answers.

Aizen laughed. "My, my, it seems you're finally starting to listen." A curious glint, tinted with a sort of evil that Hitsugaya had never seen before, dwelled in his deep brown eyes. "I am alive. My brain, my soul, my voice… it is all real. However, my body was terminated in a terrible accident concerning my experiments many years ago."

The sociopath felt the color drain from his features. How could any of this make sense? This stranger waltzed onto the field of flowers and practically demanded that all listen to him, simply because of his new presence? He was obviously trying to deceive him. None of this was true.

"Advanced technology has kept me alive, thanks to government funds. In exchange for such technology, they wanted all criminals with sanitarium records to be placed in my 'asylum' to undergo advanced therapy and changing." He chuckled at the newfound confusion in Hitsugaya's expression. "Changing, as in, ultimate removal from their previous body. You are currently asleep in the real world, placed in a private room that only one living man has seen."

"_No_!" He refused to believe this. Any of this. "You're lying! I'm not dead! This world may not be real entirely, but I know for a fact that I was never separated from my body! I was tortured by those guards, placed in the Sector Cell—"

"And you met Rukia Kuchiki."

The subject change was entirely unexpected.

"And you are not dead. As I stated, you are alive, but in a comatose state—"

"Rukia… has nothing to do with this," the man growled lowly, spite tainting every letter. How dare this man even bring up the violet-eyed woman to this conversation? She had nothing to do with his horrible nightmare. "She is just a woman."

"A woman that you spared," Aizen added quietly, noting the glint of surprise of his current enemy. "You had the opportunity to kill her, like all of the other patients that dared to make contact with you. But you spared her. Why, I was never sure. I was curious and decided to use her to my advantage. Unfortunately, you two talked about trivial things; things that didn't matter and would provide no use to me."

Hitsugaya felt his rage deepen. "You were making us your pawns."

"Ah, now you are catching along…" Aizen chuckled darkly. "That's good. Then perhaps, you will listen to my directions from now on."

Hitsugaya shook his head. What choice did he have now? To have all of these secrets and lies bestowed to him at the last minute? He was trapped in a significant part of the Mobium, and now he realized that most of his existence involving Rukongai Asylum wasn't even real. How was he supposed to respond? He could pretend that he was letting Aizen take control; he could pretend that he didn't care. But this meant more to him than anything else before, and bringing Rukia into the dilemma…

She shouldn't have been so important. She shouldn't have ever been kind to him. She unexpectedly created a bond that the dangerous Aizen Sosuke would attempt to use for his own research and sick testing. He manipulated each and every person that dwelled in Rukongai Asylum; a place that he created from his own two hands, to make a fake world for both the insane and crazy criminals.

"I won't," Hitsugaya seethed, staring Aizen defiantly in the eye, trying to ignore the confidence brimming in the cold brown depths. "I won't listen to you. Not after everything you've done."

Momo's lip curled into a pout. "Master Aizen, are you going to let him talk to you this way? What more could we ask of him?"

"Be quiet, Hinamori!" barked Hitsugaya.

Aizen chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I'm afraid she is correct. I can't just let you go now that you have all of this information." Hitsugaya snorted in disgust. "However, I suppose I could still use you. One way or the other, you will not escape the Mobium." He chuckled. "There is only one way… and it won't happen—"

"_Hitsugaya_!" The word; the simple, chilling name, echoed across the endless field of flowers like a good omen. The white-haired sociopath felt his hair and skin bristle at this declaration, staring ominously toward the rather surprised Aizen Sosuke and Momo Hinamori. The word returned, this time, far more familiar, and expanding across the field like a hammer upon glass. "_Hitsugaya_? _Are you there_? _It's me, Rukia_."

* * *

><p>"What the hell are you doing, Rukia?" Renji scoffed, staring with narrowed eyes toward the petite woman as she fiddled with the mechanical contraptions of Rulu. The bird was admittedly fake, but its usage was still the same; the song led them to its location, just to lead for one of them to catch it and use it for this specific reason.<p>

"I'm following the clues the voice gave me. He said I was close." Rukia shook her head. She couldn't think about any other matters outside of the asylum; it all came as such a shock to her: her brother's supposed _murder_, and Hisana's intentional forging… it was ludicrous, but it was driving her to the end. She wanted to escape this awful place more than anyone else, but she needed this bird to contact the one person who never deserved to be imprisoned.

She twisted several gears, watching as the bird's beak opened wider and wider, allowing for a small microphone to be seen. Sweat lingered along Rukia's fingers as she brought the microphone to her lips, licking her mouth before continuing. "Please… is anyone there? Anyone?"

"Who are you talking to?" Orihime whimpered. "Renji, Ichigo… why is she hurting Rulu like that? Why is she messing with the poor thing?"

"It's not a real bird, Orihime," Ichigo replied, folding his arms across his chest.

"Please, just respond! I know someone can hear this!" She was pleading now. Rukia would not stop until she had a solution to this terrible, terrible dream.

* * *

><p>"Impossible…" Aizen took several steps back; surprise altering his formerly confident and assuring facial expressions. He had never been beaten like this—never. "No. This can't be happening!"<p>

Hitsugaya's fingers curled into his fist. "Rukia." He growled, propelling his voice to appear far louder than before. "_Rukia_!"

The ominous voice returned, seeming to beat on all sides of the strange world. "_Hitsugaya_? _I can't believe this actually worked_."

Aizen growled lowly. "Who… who told her?" His teeth grit as he recalled the certain clues that would have led to that preposterous bird: the one token to escaping the Mobium, and the asylum altogether. How could this have happened without his knowledge? "Who told her?" He snarled toward Momo, grasping her thin shoulders and desperately shaking her. The female squeaked and fought in his powerful grasp, until he slammed her to the ground, watching as the brute impact forced the consciousness from her features. "Stupid woman."

Hitsugaya watched the display with narrowed eyes. He couldn't stand here and wait for this Aizen Sosuke to try to kill him next. With a low growl, he turned on his heel, and dashed across the flowers, just as Momo had instructed. Normally he would never do this, but with her dead and with the clearly insane man preparing to destroy him, he had no choice but to move forward.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Ah, little Kuchiki! Quite impressive on what you've done here.<strong>_

Rukia felt her blood run cold. _You…_ She slowly lowered the microphone from her lips. _What do you want? I thought… I thought you would just disappear after I found the bird!_

_**I am your guide to escaping, little Kuchiki. I know how to get you out of there. You can trust me and only me. **_

The raven-haired girl shook her head, uncertainty clouding her large eyes. _I don't know. I don't know who to trust at this point. _

_**Do you want to be stuck in the Mobium for the rest of your existence? **_

_No. _She didn't even have to think.

_**Then recite these words. Code: devour thy hope. Whisper these words into Rulu's throat. I guarantee you safe passage… **_

She hesitated, but she could see the desperation and impatience in the eyes of the people that she wished she could call friends, if the situation weren't so dire. She tilted the microphone toward her once more, clearing her throat as her every hope and desperate wish flooded to her lips. "Code: devour thy hope."

A blinding white flash forced their minds into blackness.

* * *

><p>Hitsugaya scrambled through the twisting, dark vines and upturned roots of the trees that managed to generate across from the field. The forest was quite small, and he knew that it would serve little protection against the maniac attempting to kill him.<p>

He braced himself against one of the smaller trees, casually blending with the shadows as he struggled to conceal the whiteness of his hair. The former prisoner arched one eyebrow as he noted the dazed, hulking figure of what was once the great, intimidating Aizen Sosuke, walking through the mangled twists and turns of the forest with desperation and anger gracing his features. He was out for blood.

Hitsugaya needed to remain calm. If he had a weapon…

"There you are," Aizen snarled. He looked absolutely insane; strands of brunette hair were now cluttered and strewn about like wild animal tails. His formerly calm and collected brown gaze was now wide and littered with frustrations that Hitsugaya would never be able to quell or master. "You will not escape! If anyone is escaping this hellhole, it's me!"

_CODE: DEVOUR THY HOPE_.

The world seemed to freeze for at least five seconds.

Aizen paled. "No… _no_!" He reached, his fingers longing to yank the spikes of white hair from Hitsugaya's very head.

But the other man disappeared before he could make contact. Shock and grief overtook Aizen's other emotions, as he bellowed hatefully toward the artificial skies. "_NO_!"

* * *

><p>Tired, liquid violet orbs opened to the presence of a long stretch of glass. Her breath had fogged the surface of whatever contraption it happened to be, with her lips noticeably dry and chapped from however long she was placed in that mysterious comatose state. Blinking owlishly, Rukia struggled to pour the same traces of energy through her limbs, her consciousness already beginning to fade. She had very little strength, and there was nothing she could do about it. She was lying against something that cushioned her body, but was also stiff, as if designed for permanent sleep.<p>

"Rukia!" The glass slowly slipped to one side of the strange device, with the blinding light of one of the flickering bulbs hanging from the new ceiling suddenly distracting her. The voice… the voice belonged to him. The temperamental carrot-top. Rukia felt her worries subside as she stared into genuinely concerned chocolate-brown eyes; eyes that she could trust. "I can't believe you did that. We're… we're awake."

He appeared far more exhausted and disheveled than he was in their dream state. His handsome features were rendered pale, his eyes narrowed with dark purple splotches detected underneath them: symbols of tiredness. His spiky orange hair was tangled and thrown into messy clumps. He was dressed in a casual white shirt and white pants, both of which seemed to belong together and was provided for him. Rukia felt her fingers delve into the fabric strewn over her own body, not at all surprised to feel the thick, uncomfortable cotton of some sort of dress.

She winced as he took her slender hand, slowly bringing her up from the strange bed of glass and machine. She glanced around her, drinking in the scenery with surprise.

Five mechanical pods, all lain over with glass shields and provided with several pumps for air and food intake, were spread along the wall like test robots. Rukia and Ichigo happened to be in two of the opened ones, while the others revealed Renji and Orihime rubbing their foreheads and glancing around in confusion. It was not long before Ichigo assisted them as well, clearly being the first one awake.

It was a very claustrophobic space, with dark gray tiles marring the ceiling and floors, with a wide Plexiglas panel providing the barrier between test subject and observer. However, no one was on the other side, despite the strange voices that occurred in the depths of Rukia's mind. She managed to help everyone escape, with the assistance of someone else. He had to have been there. Somewhere.

But she could still not see anyone.

"Stay back!" The subtle call shocked Rukia to her senses. She glared toward Renji, who had his arms crossed and a glare evident through his clenched teeth and enraged eyes. He was staring toward the one man that Rukia was not prepared at all to see. Standing on the other side of the room, with a broken straitjacket, large, unreadable teal eyes and beauty that she could never describe, was Toushiro Hitsugaya.

Rukia felt her lips purse in confusion. The man appeared to be just as tired as Ichigo, with his spiky white hair contorted and disheveled, his straitjacket wrinkled and torn in several places from where he had attempted to destroy it. The color was white, matching the fabric and plainness of his pants; it appeared that he was the only one in need of such constraints when placed under the coma.

He eyed the other four individuals with narrowed eyes; Rukia detected the bags of exhaustion under his gaze, and immediately felt sorry for him. "Why are you standing like that, Abarai?" he muttered coldly. "I have no interest in hurting you." He was still on edge, and Rukia could tell that he was just as impatient as ever.

Whether he was still dangerous or not, she wasn't sure.

Orihime clung to Ichigo's arm, whimpering loudly. "J-Just don't come any closer. Please don't hurt us like you hurt them!" The Inoue girl was clearly the most unusual of the five victims; there was clearly something wrong with her in the real world, and Rukia would have no means of explanation for it.

The Kuchiki's head throbbed as she struggled to maintain her balance in the cold, small room. She shook her head several times, before staring at the man that caused so many to fear him in the false world of Rukongai Asylum. "Hitsugaya." He addressed her with a frown, but his eyes were softer. She tried to smile. "Are you hurt?"

He dipped his head, slowly shaking it as his answer. "No." He glared toward the others before he approached her, the former air of hostility he once held for the woman suddenly dissipating. "Are you?"

"Gag me…" Renji grumbled.

Ichigo sighed, glancing at his open pod and noticing the strange electrodes that happened to probe their minds. "I can't believe that we were duped like this. We were the only real people in that place."

"What?" Orihime gasped.

"I know," Rukia muttered. Her mind was focused on many other things. The voice that helped them escape; the bearer of such words was somewhere. He helped them. So why couldn't he show himself? And now that she was free, she had to deal with her troublesome sister-in-law, and the matters of her brother's possible murder…

Hitsugaya watched her. "Rukia." He said her name with simplicity; but the mannerism was just so enticing; chills of surprise and embarrassment slithered down Rukia's spine. She could feel her cheeks flush under his attention. "Something's bothering you."

"It's nothing." Rukia shook her head, trying to snap out of her stupor. "Okay, Kurosaki, we need to get out of here. Now."

Ichigo snickered, one of his massive, powerful hands raking through her hair. Hitsugaya felt himself stiffen at this action, preventing a low growl from rising in his throat. Ichigo, however, oblivious to the white-haired man's anger, only continued his actions. "Fine, whatever you say. _Midget_."

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue is next everyone! I will have it uploaded by tomorrow, and I kind of have to, since I'm going to be leaving for California for ten days and I most likely won't have my computer with me. So the epilogue will be written and I will try to update and finish this story by tomorrow evening. So be on the lookout!<strong>

**Oh, and PLEASE vote on my new poll! (Choose wisely). It will widely determine what I work on after this story is finished. So please take the time to go look at it and please vote. :) It would mean a lot, and it would be beneficial to all of our schedules. XD**


	13. Epilogue

**Title: **_When the Jailbirds Sing_

**Rating: **_M_

**Genre: **_Horror/Suspense/Angst/Action/Drama_

**Setting: **_Alternate Universe_

**Disclaimer: **_Disclaimed_

**Summary: **_After the death of her beloved older brother Byakuya and the destruction of her home, Rukia Kuchiki is sent to an asylum by her paranoid sister-in-law, Hisana Kuchiki. While living in the asylum as someone who thinks she does not belong, Rukia encounters the grave tales of a dangerous inmate known to kill first and talk later. This white-haired sociopath is said to be damaged beyond any source of care that the asylum can give him. As soon as they make eye contact, a dangerous game of obsession and horror is woven. "No one has lived long in my presence. And you, Kuchiki, will be no different than anyone else." Because when the jailbirds sing, the one and only gets what he wants._

* * *

><p>Rukia could never show how much satisfaction she held at the sight of her treacherous sister, Hisana Kuchiki, clawing the ground in desperation as she was arrested for false application to an asylum. For four weeks, Rukia managed to place herself in that huge, beautiful house that Hisana kept strangely clean and worthy while she was gone.<p>

The black-haired woman traced her fingers across the edge of her sister's desk, experimenting with the light coating of dust. _This is his desk. _It was still difficult to even mention his name—Byakuya's name. Her brother's steel eyes, rare smile and wisps of ominous black hair rippled through the deepest corridors of her thoughts, plaguing her constant dreams and nightmares. She would never forget him as long as she lived.

But she was still in a dilemma.

Once she and the four other survivors of the illegal computer program "Rukongai Asylum" escaped, there were constant questions from the police and governmental authorities. She was placed in the detention center bedrooms for one week, always asked specific sentences and tested with several codes, just to be sure that her mind wasn't tainted.

She was the only perfectly sane person who was trapped in that terrible world. And Hisana planned for her to be trapped—she paid for her sister-in-law to be tormented until the end of time. She would have never aged, never fallen in love. To wish something so disastrous and inhumane on a family member was disgusting.

_She's gone now, Big Brother_. Rukia slightly smiled, tucking one strand of black hair behind her ear. She glanced at the shining silver telephone at the corner of what used to be Hisana's desk, her fingers itching to press in several numbers and call the other survivors of what people would call "the Sosuke Incident".

Their identities and progress suddenly flashed through her mind, though she could not resist the tender smile to overtake the lips that others would say belonged to an angel.

Ichigo Kurosaki, to her knowledge, was settling with the open world quite nicely. His carefree scowl and dry humor was constantly leaving messages on her phone whenever she slept, but she knew that maybe, maybe he would see her again. He called her several times the previous week, saying that he was very happy to be free, but, unlike her, he had no family. His father was rumored to be alive and possibly searching for him, and that alone was good enough news.

Renji Abarai… he was a paradox. He would switch constantly between temperamental and peaceful, between argumentative and diplomatic. Rukia knew him through his closest and probably only friend, Ichigo, and their encounters in the asylum were anything but peaceful. He always reminded her of how pathetic she could act at times, or how stupid her plans were when they were trapped in the Mobium. Rukia could see through his tough exterior, however, and knew far better than what it appeared to be.

Orihime Inoue was a strange, yet beautiful girl. Rukia knew that if the simple orange-haired doll could pay attention to things that actually _mattered_, she could carry herself far through life. It was almost impossible to imagine the woman ever suffering due to her appearance, and, although she could be annoying at times, she was a good friend to Rukia. The Kuchiki would never forget how the Inoue woman was the kindest person to her, the first inmate to greet her on the dangerous grounds of Rukongai.

Rukia reached into the mahogany drawers of the desk and pulled out several slips of paper. She tested several pens before one finally worked, as a single name came to her mind. Whenever she thought of this person, she couldn't let the image of broiling, heavily angry and fearless green-blue eyes escape her mind.

What could she write to Toushiro Hitsugaya? He managed to be freed alongside them, supposedly happy from escaping the evil depths of the illegal project. Rukia was familiar with his temper and how he threatened to kill her on several occasions, and on one encounter, as he admitted to her shortly after their escape, that he attempted to do just that. He was a mass of contradictions and she longed to pull each and every string that tied him together, just to find out what lied underneath.

Her fingers clenched nervously around the pen, pondering of what she could say. Shortly after their escape, the police took him into their custody and, surprisingly, he didn't fight back. He was well aware of the crimes he committed—the dual murders of Momo Hinamori and Izuru Kira. He was tried and was ultimately dealt with three years of extensive therapy with a special doctor, and would need to live under her roof during that time. It was concluded that he wasn't as dangerous as expected, and already his insanity seemed to meld with each passing day in a normal society, away from his past troubles.

She wasn't his friend. She wasn't anything else… not even an acquaintance.

So how could she address herself in this letter to him? She had written the other papers in less than thirty minutes, quite capable of letting her friends know what she thought and felt about them during their adjustment. Ichigo was the only one who happened to respond to her letter, and she couldn't stop smiling.

Twenty minutes.

Still, she didn't know what to write.

_Hitsugaya. What are you to me? _She had no idea, but she knew that this letter would probably never be answered even if she sent it. Pondering over her decisions when she was around him. He made her heart race; he made her stomach twist and turn in awkward manners and she had no idea why.

She was drawn to him.

Rukia shrugged. She knew she would see him again.

Soon.

* * *

><p>"Oh, don't give me that look, you adorable white-haired maniac."<p>

The sarcastic, humor-laced reply stroked the words of possibly one of the most beautiful psychiatrists in the existence of humanity. She stood at a tall height, with enormous voluptuous curves, and long waves of striking strawberry-blonde hair. Her lips were full and almost always curled into an attractive pout, with her smoky eyes narrowed like that of a cat. She was dressed in a dark green pencil skirt with a matching jacket, and a slightly unbuttoned white shirt that exposed much of her cleavage.

Across from her desk, sitting on one of the lounge couches was Toushiro Hitsugaya. He was wearing a long-sleeved blue shirt, with casual jeans and, currently, only socks. This oddball psychiatrist forbade him from ever walking into her office with any sort of footwear, and even threatened to steal said shoes if they ever appeared on her custom carpet.

"I don't want to answer that question," he muttered grumpily. He was placed under this strange woman's care for three years due to his horrendous actions; murdering Izuru Kira and former lover Momo Hinamori. Due to his sanitarium records, he was spared several penalties that would have gone so far as to cost him his life.

"Why not?" the sultry woman pressed, looking almost bored. "This is my job, silly man. I'm supposed to ask you these questions, no matter how much you hate them." She giggled in a salacious manner, flipping locks of dark blonde hair from her features. She let her lips twitch into an interested, casual grin. "So, you don't have a lover?"

"_No_," he replied bitterly. He wished he didn't have to go through this. "I don't. Not after… not after Momo." He didn't want to talk about how he killed her. He could barely even remember the details, just of the strange events of walking into their shared complex, and seeing that disgusting blonde son of a bitch—

"Then let me ask you another question," Doctor Matsumoto Rangiku quipped. "Are you in love currently? I'm sure you were attracted to some girls in that… I guess, fake asylum? It's part of the journey of curing your psychotic mindset, you grumpy-pants."

Hitsugaya almost growled; a habit the doctor told him he needed to get rid of. "No. Nothing romantic. I've never glanced at a woman more than once in that terrible place." He pondered, and suddenly, he caught his own lie. "Except…" he paused. Should he really even think about her? He thought he successfully pushed those exquisite violet eyes, that soft black hair, that genuine, intelligent smile… he thought he was rid of it. No, no. He wasn't.

"Except?" Matsumoto pressed, smirking widely. "Oh, this is interesting. You've never mentioned anything like this before. So you like a girl?"

"No."

"I bet you do!" She giggled, finding herself heavily amused with this man. He was by far the most interesting patient that she'd had to deal with for the last four years. "Care to describe her to me?"

Hitsugaya rolled his eyes. "No."

"So stubborn. If you talk about her, maybe you can get the image of her off your chest. Maybe you can forget about her, if that's what you want." Though Matsumoto knew very well that, from her psychiatric knowledge that this man was in desperate need of love and attention. He had been emotionally secluded for a long, long time. Any attention from a beautiful woman would grant him happiness. She knew that it could also benefit his path to reclaiming his sanity, as well. "But I don't think you should try to forget," she added quietly.

Hitsugaya's thumbs rubbed together. "… Rukia."

"Hm?" Matsumoto blinked.

"Her name. Her name is Rukia," he muttered. His shoulders lost some tension, but that was the only reaction his body would allow at such a statement. There was little to change, wasn't there? "Rukia Kuchiki."

Matsumoto's eyes widened. "Kuchiki?" Images of the powerful, deceased millionaire Byakuya Kuchiki suddenly flared through her mind, and she vaguely recalled several newspaper articles concerning the arrest of his corrupted wife, Hisana. "I see."

"She has black hair. Violet eyes." Hitsugaya felt his own gaze soften. He didn't want to think about her. "We barely talked. But… she was kind to me." He was struggling to find the correct words. "Very kind."

"She sounds pretty," Matsumoto whispered, a smile tugging at the corner of her glossy lips. "Would you want to see her again?"

This made the white-haired man pause. Did he truly wish to see her again? After they escaped, he found her presence extremely comforting and almost wanted to be around her far longer than he was allowed to, with the police present and everything. They barely let him say a word to the Kuchiki girl.

He slowly licked his lips, pressing his fingers to his temples. After several agonizingly long seconds, he folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes. "Yes. I would want to see her again."

* * *

><p><em>8:34 PM.<em>

Matsumoto smiled as she gathered her research papers together, applying the crimson paperclip to the corners. She smirked once she noticed that these were all completed by several other members of the Association of Psychiatrists, and were gradually shipped to her. She was already one of the best psychiatrists to ever grace the presence of Japan, especially out of Karakura.

Her newest patient was going to need a lot of work.

"Ah, I see that you are busy, little kitten." Matsumoto blinked, slowly reaching for the glasses perched on her nose at the sound of the slick, seductive voice. She released a heavy sigh, her stature subtly growing cold.

"What do you want?" she muttered.

"I came to see you." The shadow chuckled, one slender hand reaching for her chin and tilting her gaze upward. "You have such beautiful eyes, Matsumoto—"

She slapped his hand away, rubbing her eyes in exhaustion. "Get out of my office."

"Oh, but I've missed you." The figure chuckled, brushing strands of what appeared to be silver hair out of his clouded features. "I've missed how fiery you can be when confronted about your patients. Or, even more… I've missed you in my bed."

She glared at him. "Really. You're pathetic, Ichimaru."

The man chuckled in the blackness. "I want to know about your newest patient."

"That's confidential." She stood from her chair, protectively clutching the papers to her chest. "See yourself out. You have no business here, and my patient's business isn't yours."

"Ah, Matsumoto, that is where you are wrong. You have every right to tell me about your patient… about Toushiro Hitsugaya." She stared at him; ash-colored eyes glimmering with mischief in the darkness, unimpressed by the threatening tone underlying his words.

"You wouldn't attack me," she challenged, continuing to gather her books and wrapping her arms around the collective objects. "Even if he's of use to you, I can't let you interfere. Not now. Especially not right now."

Before she could say another word, the opposing body had slammed against her, her lips captured into another's, her eyes significantly widening at the surprising burst of power. She trembled beneath the grasp, looking away as the opposing mouth parted. Without another word, she kept her head low and dashed out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

Gin chuckled, licking his lips, as if savoring the taste of the woman he had interacted with many years prior. He stared toward the leftover documents splayed over her desk, exposing many pictures and interesting files about the one man he was tracking.

_Soon, Whitey, we will play a little game of my own. _

His toothy smile flashed as the lights flickered off.

* * *

><p><strong>I can't believe this story is officially finished. Thank you, wonderful readersreviewers, for taking so much time to enjoy my story, and to be so patient with me during unexpected delays. It means the world to me that you've stuck this long. It's been a while since I've officially finished a fanfiction, and thanks to your support I've managed to finally do just that. :)**

**The sequel to **_**When the Jailbirds Sing**_** already has a name. **

_**As the Lost Ones Cry **_**will be published in late October/early November. Summary is still in the works and will be put on my profile in a couple of weeks. Be on the lookout!**

**REMINDER: Please vote on the poll on my profile if you haven't already! Thank you so much everyone, again, for all that you've done to make this story happen! :D **


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